


Nothing the Same - Book Four

by orchidluv



Series: Nothing the Same [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-26 00:07:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 167,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4982059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidluv/pseuds/orchidluv





	1. Chapter 1

Spike jumped and caught the overhanging edge, swinging himself up and over, landing silently on the roof of the mausoleum. He crossed the roof, moving with quiet stealth, and chose a spot near the edge, overlooking the shorter crypts and individual tombstones more common in this part of the cemetery, settling in to watch the show. 

The Slayer was fighting two vampires. Both of them had some skill and they were clearly familiar with each other’s moves. A long-term hunting pair, most like. The two of them were doing a fair job of tag-teaming the Slayer and Spike lit a cigarette, watching the Slayer intently.

She’d improved in the last few months and her fighting style had changed. More aggressive. A bit flashier. A lot less of the feeble humor she’d been so fond of spouting in between blows. Now, she kept her jokes for before and after, without the running patter during the fight. 

He wondered who she’d been training with, or if she’d simply shifted into a higher gear - a natural athlete coming into their own with practice and maturity.

She wasn’t training with the Watcher, Spike knew that for a fact. And she wasn’t seriously training with her soldier either. Riley Finn was having problems adjusting to his new role as a “normal” guy. Finn was well-trained for a human, but he hadn’t been up to the Slayer’s level even when he was pumped full of Maggie Walsh’s drugs. Now that he wasn’t operating on a chemical high, he wasn’t anywhere near the Slayer’s equal.

She hadn’t been training with Spike either, even though she asked to spar with him back at the beginning of the summer. Spike took a deep drag, filling his lungs with the warm smoke, remembering that fiasco. He had flatly refused to spar with her if her toy soldier would be there, and soldier boy had been equally insistent that the Slayer shouldn’t train with Spike unless he was present, so that idea had gone nowhere. Spike curled his lip. Like soldier boy could have stopped him from doing anything he wanted during a sparring session with the Slayer.

He exhaled a long puff of smoke, and watched as the Slayer used a tombstone as a vaulting horse, sailing over it to land a double-footed kick in the taller vampire’s stomach, sending him flying backwards, hitting the crypt behind him with enough force to make a serious crack in the marble surface. The Slayer spun around immediately and tackled - literally - the second vampire who’d been coming up behind her. The two of them tumbled to the ground, rolling over and over on the grass, both struggling to end up on top.

The Slayer lost that round as they came to a stop with the female vampire on top. The Slayer managed to get her legs up between them and heaved upwards, shoving the vampire off her, and Spike nodded in approval as the vampire slammed into her partner, sending both of them back to the ground in a tangle of long hair and flailing limbs. He’d seen the Slayer aim the vampire at her partner as she’d shoved the vampire off her. The Slayer had gotten better at keeping track of her opponents’ movements during a fight as well.

The Slayer flipped to her feet and kept the vampires on the defensive as she pounded them, hitting and kicking until the pair was showing signs of breaking and running. Then, and only then, did she pull out a stake, dusting the woman and yanking the stake out, then throwing it at the male, who’d taken to his heels. Spike cocked his head and took another drag, watching as the stake whistled through the air and dusted the fleeing vampire in a long trail of ash.

Not a bad fight. Not quite up to his level yet, he thought judiciously, but getting damn close. He wondered again what had caused the change.

The Slayer had also taken to hunting more widely than she used to. Until this summer, she’d always confined her efforts primarily to the town cemeteries and most of her vampire kills were fledglings. Now she was expanding her patrols, covering more of the town, and she’d tangled with members of the Court for almost the first time since Spike had set up his Court. She’d dusted half a dozen of his senior minions this summer, no one important, but the surprising thing was that she’d encountered any of them at all. Living at the Court, most of his minions didn’t spend much time in the cemeteries. True, some of them had probably gone hunting the Slayer, pumped up with confidence in their fighting skills after the training program Spike had put the entire Court through while getting ready to fight the Initiative. Two of the casualties had been vampires that had been showing signs of working up the nerve to challenge Spike. It amused Spike that they had obviously decided to tackle the Slayer first, figuring her to be the easier target. 

Which she was, he thought confidently. Even with her improved fighting, he was confident he could take her if it came down to that. 

Which it might some day.

Curious to see what would happen next, Spike stayed put as the Slayer examined her shirt with an annoyed expression, obviously upset over some minor damage. Hands resting on his knees, motionless except for the occasional drag on his cigarette, Spike watched to see what her next move would be. The Slayer set off energetically across the cemetery, her step almost bouncy, then hesitated, looking around warily.

“Who’s there?”

Spike snorted in disgust, loud enough to be audible in the quiet night air. Slayer still had a ways to go in the stealth department, that was clear. 

“Considering that the only thing I’ve done to hide the fact that I’m here was not giving a running commentary on the fight, would expect you to bloody well know someone was watching, Slayer,” he said scathingly.

He stood and leapt down from the roof of the mausoleum in one fluid motion, landing lightly on the grass a few feet from her, grinning sardonically as she started in surprise at his sudden appearance. 

She gave him a baleful look. “Are you spying on me?”

Spike lifted his scarred eyebrow. “Not spying on you, Slayer, just passing the time with the floorshow.”

A smug smile crossed her face at the mention of the fight. “Pick up any good moves?”

“Your spin-kicks need work,” he told her airily, deliberately misconstruing the question.

“My kicks are great,” she said, glaring at him.

“Well, sure, for a human,” he said provokingly. He glanced around, conspicuously searching for something he knew wasn’t there. “Where’s your toy soldier? Not able to keep up with his super honey, now he’s not pumped full of chemicals?”

The Slayer flushed at the leering innuendo and Spike smirked, knowing he’d guessed right. 

The Slayer had been ditching her soldier more and more frequently, patrolling on her own. She’d been going out almost every night, much later than she formerly had, and Spike suspected she’d been sneaking out of the house in the wee hours after Finn fell asleep. From the smell, she’d been rutting with her soldier and had left afterwards to patrol.

Which didn’t say much for her boyfriend’s abilities in the sack either.

“Is there a point to this little encounter, Spike?” she asked testily. “If not, I need to get home.”

Spike lit another cigarette instead of answering, raising an eyebrow at her exasperated look and the Slayer threw up her hands in disgust and stalked off. 

He wasn’t about to flatter her by telling her he’d been watching her, studying her moves. Granted, they had a truce, but today’s ally was tomorrow’s enemy and he wasn’t the type to become complacent and assume they would never be trying to kill each other. 

Especially since the complete git she was dating made no secret of the fact that he hated and distrusted Spike. The few times this summer that Spike had been in the same room as the soldier, he’d smelled the distrust and nervousness that simply rolled off the soldier when he was forced to play nice with the demons in town. 

Wanker didn’t even realize that half the demons the Slayer had dragged him to meet could smell the truth, even when the soldier plastered on a smile and tried to fake sincerity. Just went to show that you could take the boy out of the Initiative, but you couldn’t take the Initiative out of the boy. Finn was still Initiative, even if that organization seemed genuinely dead and buried. And it was obvious that the soldier would never really trust demons.

Not that Spike gave a tinker’s damn what soldier boy thought of him or anyone else. Xander resented it, which was sweet, but Spike didn’t care. He grinned now, remembering the way Xander had ripped soldier boy a new one when Finn had made the mistake of telling Xander he’d been foolish to remove the chip that kept Spike “harmless”. Spike couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Xander tear into someone that way. Soldier boy had backed down, but it had been obvious that he’d only done so to placate the Slayer; his suspicious eyes continued to follow Spike every time they had the misfortune to meet, making it clear he hadn’t changed his opinion.

Flicking his cigarette butt away, Spike strolled off in the opposite direction from the Slayer. He had his own patrol to finish, not that there’d been much action recently. Between the Slayer’s nightly hunts and the generally quiet state of the Hellmouth, it had been a dull summer. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander signed the last document with a flourish and beamed at Mr. Jenkins. “I still can’t believe you do this for fun.”

Mr. Jenkins laughed. “People have been telling me that for 40 years. Even my wife just shakes her head and tells me I’m crazy.”

Xander looked at the tidy pile of documents they had been going through and was surprised he didn’t feel even a twinge of regret. The documents transferred ownership of his side business to Rob, the oldest of his employees. 

Demand had eased off a lot as his customers gradually became less fearful and convinced the Initiative was gone for good and Xander had been glad. So much of the work he’d done last spring was because the demon community had been afraid of anything that might call attention to their existence. 

Rob wanted to keep the business going and expand, doing more remodeling work and bigger jobs. He thought Xander’s little side business had a lot of potential and thought Xander was crazy for not to want to tap it himself. Xander, who’d been hoping to find a way to shut down the business without leaving his customers in the lurch, had been delighted to learn that Rob wanted to take it on full time, now that he’d graduated from high school. The customers liked Rob, he’d developed into a good, all around construction guy, and Xander was happy that Sunnydale’s demon community would have a reliable, discrete handyman/construction company to call on for the near future at least. Xander himself was doing more carpentry than anything else these days and wanted to keep doing that, rather than general construction work, so it had been a good fit all around.

Mr. Jenkins gave him a stern look as he gathered up the papers and put them neatly into a folder. “Just because I’m not your accountant any more doesn’t mean I don’t expect you to still keep in touch.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Xander told him truthfully. “There’s no way I’m going without my regular fix of your wife’s cooking.”

Like many of his customers, Mr. Jenkins had become a friend. Xander enjoyed dropping by their houses to visit them, and intended to keep on doing it. Often he had just stopped by for five minutes to check on a job and found himself being plied with lemonade and home baked goodies. A lot of his older clients, and some of the more obvious demons, didn’t get out of the house much and enjoyed having company. Xander got a kick out of them. Whether demon or human, they were fun to talk to and he never knew if he would end up listening to a story about surviving the Great Depression or about how their full-blood grandmother defended her nest from a pack of Naarvahl demons. Either way, the stories were interesting, his customers loved having him visit, and Xander felt like he had a dozen grandparents to replace the real ones he’d never known.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Giles, what’s going on?” 

Xander was tired of waiting for Giles to volunteer the reason behind his sudden drive to organize all his Slayer materials. The man had been in an organizing frenzy for the past month. Every time Xander stopped by his apartment, books were piled up everywhere and - most stunning of all - Giles had bought a computer and a scanner and was working his way methodically through the rarer and more fragile of his personal library. 

Ok, Giles was working his way through the books only when he couldn’t con someone else into doing it for him. The former librarian might finally have caved in to the reality that knowledge could be preserved in a format other than paper or parchment, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. It was not unusual to enter the apartment these days to find Giles in mid-argument with the computer, as if he could persuade it to do what he wanted by cowing it into submission with colorful insults and elaborate threats. Unfortunately, the state-of-the-art scanner was proving as stubborn as Giles and it absolutely refused to scan some of the more faded handwritten volumes, regardless of how often it was threatened. Xander suspected it was a combination of bad penmanship and the archaic forms of the languages in the books that was causing the problems, but Giles seemed to be taking it as a personal insult to his books and insisted that the books were perfectly readable and that the “bloody machine” was simply being obstinate. 

“What do you mean?” Giles looked up from where he was working on an index for his Watcher Diaries, another of the projects he’d begun this summer. “Is that infernal machine refusing to cooperate again?”

“No, I am.” Xander had finished the book he’d spent the past two days scanning and now pointedly shut down the computer. “Why are you so gung ho about getting all of this done in such a hurry? There’s at least six months worth of work here and you’re trying to get it done in six weeks. What’s the rush?”

Giles closed the notepad he’d been writing in and set down his pen. He took off his glasses and spent a moment polishing them. Xander’s eyes narrowed as he watched the familiar signs of deliberate stalling. He’d been right, something was definitely up.

“Xander, you mustn’t repeat what I’m about to say. Especially not to Buffy.” Giles glanced at him, waiting for his agreement.

“Ok,” Xander agreed slowly, wondering what this was about.

“We’re doing all this,” his gesture encompassed the computer and the piles of books waiting to be scanned, “because I want Buffy to have everything she needs at her fingertips. You see, I’m…,” Giles looked up at him again, meeting his eyes squarely. “I’m going back to England.”

For a long minute, Xander just stared at Giles, dumbfounded. “Why?” he managed to ask finally.

Giles smiled. “It’s become quite obvious that Buffy doesn’t need me any longer.” Xander opened his mouth to object but Giles continued before he could speak. “I don’t say that in a self-pitying way, I’m quite proud of her, actually. She’s done what very few Slayers have ever done: lived to be an adult who no longer needs a Watcher.”

“Are you sure?” Xander asked, after a moment.

“I’m very sure, Xander. England is my home. While the last few years have proved to be immensely satisfying, I am simply not a Californian at heart. Especially when I’m not really needed here any longer.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Xander said. “Do you really think that Buffy’s ready to do this on her own?” 

“Buffy has become quite independent this summer and that is as it should be.” Giles looked at Xander calmly, “Parents - even surrogate ones - who foist themselves on their children past when they are needed can become very unattractive.” 

All of which would have been far more believable if Giles’ tone hadn’t been just a little too brisk and matter-of-fact. 

“Buffy still needs a Watcher, Giles,” Xander told him. “She’s no more interested in studying demons now than she ever has been. That’s always been her major weakness as a Slayer and you know it. You fill that gap.”

“I agree that Buffy has never been a typical Slayer,” Giles conceded. “She has always relied on instinct more than preparation. But she has you and Spike, and the demon community to assist her. And Riley Finn,” he added after a barely perceptible pause.

Xander suppressed a sigh. Like the rest of them, Giles was still uncomfortable around Riley Finn. Everyone had different reasons for their inability to accept him and for Giles, it was primarily the fact that he’d never quite been able to accept the government knowing about Slayers, even a small, covert part of the government.

Maybe especially a small covert part of the government. 

God knows Riley had tried, but Xander didn’t like the fact that Riley had to try so hard. He was like one of those people who insisted on reassuring Xander that there “was nothing wrong” with him being gay, while still having that look in their eyes that either said they were worried about Xander hitting on them or wondering exactly what it was that he and Spike did in bed. Xander mostly ignored those type of people. 

Of course, Spike loved to describe exactly what he and Xander supposedly did in bed, in graphic detail and sometimes with sketches, but Xander tried really hard to avoid those conversations whenever possible. Not only was it deeply embarrassing, but Spike liked to claim they did things that Xander was pretty sure were only physically possible for a contortionist who’d memorized the kama sutra.

Xander shook his head, realizing his thoughts had strayed a little far off the subject. Not that Riley wasn’t a big part of the problem between Buffy and Giles this summer. True to form, Buffy had gone off the deep end over a guy, spending all her time with Riley and letting their relationship take precedence over almost everything else in her life. 

Buffy hadn’t trained, or done much of anything else with Giles in a long time. Looking back, Xander couldn’t remember the last time Buffy had mentioned training with anyone but Riley. 

So, no training his Slayer to occupy his time, the patrol schedules had long since been worked out and didn’t require Giles’ assistance, and there hadn’t been any emergencies that called for research since the Initiative was defeated. Thinking back over the summer, Xander realized belatedly that Giles had been showing all the signs of someone who didn’t know what to do with themselves. Which explained the current organizing frenzy.

Last year, Buffy had still been relying on Giles, although to a lesser extent than in previous years. Giles had also taken on the job of working with the demon community to coordinate their efforts against the Initiative, and, in general, there had been enough going on that Giles had been an active participant in his Slayer’s life and work. This summer, with Buffy and Riley wrapped up in each other, and all quiet on the demon front, Giles had had too much time on his hands. 

Time he’d apparently used for brooding.

Xander realized he’d been sitting there, lost in thought, long enough that Giles was staring at him curiously.

“Sorry. I guess I hadn’t realized how dull this summer has been for you. But, Giles, doesn’t a Watcher stay with their Slayer for…” He caught himself just before saying “for life”. “Forever?” he finished somewhat lamely.

“That has certainly been true historically, but there were many reasons for that life-long relationship, a number of which no longer hold true.”

“Like what?” Xander tried to keep his tone curious, not challenging.

“Xander, I rather doubt you are actually interested in historical trivia about the Watcher-Slayer relationship.” Giles gave him a stern look.

Busted. “Ok, I’m not really interested. But Giles, I think you’re underestimating how much you mean to Buffy. You’re not just her Watcher. Since her dad dropped off the face of the earth, you’re practically her father.”

“Buffy will be fine,” Giles told him calmly. “It’s not like I won’t be reachable by phone if she needs me. She’s maintained her relationship with Willow quite handily despite the fact that Willow has been in England. I have no doubts that she will be able to do the same with me.”

Xander backed down in the face of Giles’ quiet determination. Just because Xander would miss him, didn’t give him the right to demand that Giles stay, especially when Giles obviously didn’t feel either needed or useful here. 

“When are you going to tell her?” he asked, wondering if he should talk to Buffy despite his promise not to.

“Soon,” Giles told him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Giles is leaving town.”

Spike finished lining up his shot and dropped the 5-ball neatly in the corner pocket before straightening up and leaning against his cue. Head cocked to one side, he regarded his Claimed. “Thought that might be coming.”

“You knew?” Xander looked at him in surprise.

“Stands to reason.” Spike shrugged carelessly. “Hasn’t been paid by the Council for over a year. Slayer doesn’t give him the time of day any more. Nothing to keep him here, is there?”

Xander looked depressed and Spike frowned, wondering how to cheer him up. The Watcher leaving would devastate Xander. “Can threaten him for you if you want, pet. Force him to stay.”

His boy just shook his head, lips curling in a small, reluctant smile. “No, but thanks for the offer. It’s just that I’ll miss him.”

“Been more a father to you than your own ever was, ‘course you’ll miss him. Still, you’ll manage to keep in touch. Done it with everyone else who’s left town, haven’t you?” 

Xander was obsessive about that. Even kept in touch with the Witch, who’d thankfully spent most of the summer in England where Spike could pretend she didn’t exist. His boy spent time every week at the library, exchanging emails with the scattered friends that he clung to so tenaciously. Xander didn’t handle loss well, and had kept most of the people he cared about in his life through sheer bloody stubbornness and his absolute refusal to let them go. Spike had no doubt that the Watcher would find himself in that group soon. 

“I just don’t see Giles getting into email,” Xander answered gloomily. He bent over the table, signaling the end of the conversation and lined up his shot. It said a lot about his emotional state that he missed the bank shot he was aiming for by a mile, sending the ball rocketing around the table.

Spike reached out and took the cue from him. “Let’s get out of here, pet. You’re off your game.” He thought about offering to take Xander patrolling with him, but Xander didn’t get the same enjoyment out of killing things that Spike did. On the other hand, sex usually cheered Xander up and Spike was always ready for a couple rounds of sweaty fun between the sheets. 

Xander didn’t protest, and Spike steered him towards the door, one hand on the small of his back as they made their way through the crowded bar, his fingers tracing the warmth of Xander’s suntanned skin through his cotton t-shirt. In the heat of the late August night, they were both wearing t-shirts and jeans, and Spike’s appreciative gaze roamed over Xander’s figure: admiring the narrow waist and broad shoulders of his boy, the dark, wavy hair Spike kept talking him out of cutting, which brushed past his shoulders now, and the darkly tanned skin which spoke of long hours working outside. 

All the little insecure tells had finally disappeared in the past year and Xander kept his shoulders back and his head up these days. His Claimed moved with the powerful grace of a self-confident man who knew what his body could do. Between his workouts with Spike and his construction job, Xander had lost the last traces of teenage coltishness and become a sexy, confident man and Spike loved to watch him.

Coming up beside the deSoto, Spike grabbed Xander’s wrist as he moved automatically towards the passenger side, pulling him back and pushing him up against the hood of the car. Xander laughed and sat down on the hood, feet on the front bumper, his knees spreading apart to welcome Spike between them. “Thinking about cheering me up?” he asked. 

“Was considering it,” Spike told him, moving between Xander’s legs and leaning in, kissing Xander with slow thoroughness, sliding his hands into the dark wavy hair, holding Xander still while his mouth moved sensuously over Xander’s. Xander responded with the same slow, rising heat, arms sliding around Spike’s waist, his thighs hugging Spike’s hips as their mouths moved against each other: tongues exploring, teeth nibbling, passion rising.

Xander finally pushed him back with a breathless laugh. “Shall we take this home?” he suggested, eyes dark with passion.

“Don’ know, luv, like the thought of you sprawled naked on top of my car,” Spike purred. 

“Yeah, but the audience would be a turn off,” Xander said, as Spike had known he would. He’d never been able to convince Xander that sex in public would be fun. He didn’t move as Xander slid off the hood, so that their bodies ended up pressed full length, and he smirked as he felt clear evidence of Xander’s arousal pressing against him. “Sure you can wait, pet?” he asked smugly.

“Just long enough to get home,” Xander told him. “I want you naked twenty seconds after we’re in the apartment.” He grinned challengingly at Spike. “Think you can handle that?”

Spike gave him a quick, hard kiss, then headed for the driver’s door. “Get your ass in gear, luv. If you take longer than 10 seconds, those clothes are going to be in rags.”

He roared out of the parking lot, Xander’s sunlit laughter filling the car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, you have got to be kidding.” Xander couldn’t help an incredulous double-take at the tall, silent figure that suddenly appeared in front of him as he was walking home through the early twilight. Black, ankle-length cape with a flash of scarlet lining, silk shirt, dark, shoulder-length hair, and dime-store fangs. “Ok, points for having the whole ensemble, so I’m guessing there’s a magician in the family, but can I just point out that Halloween is over two months away and, given this town’s track record, probably not your best choice of costumes in any case.”

“Be silent.”

And cheesy accent to match the outfit, Xander thought, shaking his head in disbelief. “Where did you get that accent, Sesame Street?” He couldn’t resist, he’d always liked the Count on Sesame Street: “Vun, two, tree -- tree victims. Mwa ha ha!” Not bad, he told himself. Maybe the evil laugh needed work but…

“Whoa!”

Xander nearly jumped out of his skin as the vampire-wannabe in front of him disappeared, leaving only a curl of fog behind him. 

“You have been Claimed.”

Heart pounding, Xander whirled around to see the black-clad figure standing behind him. Swallowing hard, he was forced to admit that the accent sounded a lot less cheesy and a lot more scary when it was speaking practically in your ear. 

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded, taking a cautious step back.

The man inclined his head slightly and Xander suddenly realized just how tall he was, several inches taller than Xander himself. “Forgive me, I assumed you knew. I am Dracula.” 

Just to be safe, Xander took another step back. “Ok, not really buying that. He’s like a fictional character, right?” Surreptitiously reaching for his cross, Xander wished his voice hadn’t sounded so uncertain on the last word. He knew Spike would be pissed at him for going for his cross instead of a stake, but he couldn’t take the chance this wasn’t some kind of practical joke. Smacking a human in the face with a cross would maybe leave a bruise and hard feelings but a stake through the heart would kill a human as easily as a vampire.

He eased the cross out of his back pocket and, as soon as it cleared the fabric, swung it hard at the guy’s face. Again, the guy simply vanished, the cross swiping through a patch of mist that hadn’t been there a second earlier. 

“Who is your Master?”

Xander jumped again, already tired of this guy popping up behind him and beginning to worry that he might be seriously out of his depth with this one. He turned and shoved the cross straight at the guy, who vanished again. Xander didn’t wait for him to reappear behind him this time, spinning around immediately, right elbow leading, only to slam with bruising force into a hard, muscled body halfway through the turn. An inhumanly strong arm wrapped around his waist, pinning his left arm down and chill fingers gripped his right wrist tightly, preventing him from swinging the cross.

“Put it down.”

The cross fell from his suddenly lax fingers and Xander wasted a moment staring down at it in disbelief. The guy had just told him to drop the cross and his hand had obeyed. What the hell?

Snapping out of it, he reminded himself that he knew a fair bit about self-defense, thanks to Spike, but before he could move, the imprisoning arm was gone from his body and the vampire simply appeared in front of him again. Xander started to scramble backwards, intending to get the hell out of there but suddenly froze, staring into the vampire’s dark eyes, unable to look away.

The vampire reached out and pulled down the neck of Xander’s t-shirt, stretching it so that it no longer covered Spike’s Claim Mark.

“Who is your Master?”

“Spike.” Trapped in the vampire’s stare, Xander heard his own voice distantly as he answered.

“Why does he let you wander alone at night, where others might find you?”

“Because he trusts me.”

Xander shivered as the vampire traced his Claim scar with one fingertip. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything while those eyes held his. He could feel his heart pounding and his breath coming in short, shallow pants but he couldn’t tear himself away from the grip of the dark eyes.

“He is foolish, your Master.” The finger moved lower, drifting across his skin beneath the stretched neckline of his t-shirt. “He does not give you what you need.”

Xander struggled to protest that, opening his mouth to say something.

“Be silent.” 

The words died unspoken at the soft-voiced command. The vampire drifted around him, the slight fluttering of his cape seemingly the only thing moving as he slid behind Xander. A hand traced along his back, the unnatural coolness felt even through the worn cotton t-shirt. 

“There are no scars on your back,” the accented voice purred in his ear. “Has your Master never shown you the pleasure to be found in pain?” 

His whole body shivered compulsively for one instant, like a dog shedding water, and Xander felt like he was surfacing after nearly drowning. Those hypnotic eyes no longer held him captive and he lunged forward, unable to think of anything but getting away from the vampire. 

He’d only managed two steps when there was a shimmer in the night air and Dracula was in front of him again. Xander no longer had any doubts that this was Dracula. He’d never encountered a vampire with powers anything like this and he grabbed the stake from his waistband and stabbed wildly at the vampire’s chest.

The stake was slapped out of his hand with a motion almost too quick to see and an implacable grip closed on his forearms. Xander yanked back with all his strength but the vampire didn’t even need to brace himself against Xander’s struggles, holding him with effortless ease.

Xander kept his eyes on the vampire’s chest, “Let. Me. Go.” he demanded furiously. 

“Look at me.” 

He almost looked up but was able to stop himself from obeying, the voice alone was something he could resist, now that he’d had some warning. “Spike will kill you for touching me,” he said in a low, deadly voice.

Cold fingers closed painfully on his jaw, forcing his head up, and Dracula’s eyes burned into his. “Shall I take you from him, little Claimed? Shall I show you what it truly means to be the Claimed human of a Master Vampire?”

Lost in the depths of Dracula’s hypnotic stare, Xander couldn’t answer, couldn’t even remember the question. His world narrowed to the fathomless eyes holding his own and he was drowning in their darkness.  
* * * 

Xander struggled wildly against the shackles, even though experience had taught him it was futile. The manacles around his wrists were padded, preventing him from doing permanent damage to himself. His bare feet scraped the concrete floor, he could stand only on tip toe, an effort that was long beyond his strength as the session went on and on. 

A sharp crack was his only warning before fire erupted along his ribs as the lash curled around him, cutting into his skin and drawing blood. He screamed, chains rattling as he tried to jerk away from the agony lancing across his back, and his Master laughed.

Xander waited for the next blow, already half-flinching in anticipation of the pain, but it didn’t come. He could feel each separate droplet of blood rolling down the flayed skin of his back and he moaned as a cool tongue traced the line of the most recent welt, teasingly swiping over his skin and lapping up the droplets with a pleased murmur.

The worse thing was, like everything else his Master did to him, it was almost unbearably arousing.

“Very good, little Claimed,” his Master praised him. A gentle hand lifted his head and cool fingers stroked the sweat-dampened hair out of his eyes. Dark eyes captured his as they always had from the day they’d first met.

Inhumanly strong fingers closed around his bound cock and stroked once down the swollen length, from the ring at the base constricting his cock and balls and denying him release to the dripping head. Xander whimpered, biting his lip to prevent himself from begging. 

His Master chuckled. “Always so stubborn, little Claimed. Even knowing that you have never won, you still attempt to defy me.” 

Dracula stroked along the length of his aching erection once more. “But I can be merciful, little Claimed. All you need to do is ask.”

Dracula’s eyes bored into his, reading his soul and his most deeply hidden desires, and Xander couldn’t look away. His hips moved helplessly, thrusting into his Master’s hand, desperately craving the release he’d been denied for so long. As Dracula had once promised, the pain in his back merged with the arousal, intensifying both, until Xander couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Please,” he begged, shame overcoming him, surrendering as he always did.

The hand on his cock gripped tighter, stroking harder and Xander let out a hoarse cry at the unbearable sensation, hips jerking wildly in desperate need. “You must tell me what you want, little Claimed. Ask and your Master will grant you your desire.”

Despising himself, wishing he were dead, Xander heard his own voice sobbing: “Please, bite me.”

Triumph flashed across Dracula’s face, before he lowered his head to Xander’s Claim Mark. Needle-sharp fangs penetrated his skin as Dracula released the cock ring and Xander screamed in agony and ecstasy, his body jerking wildly at the pain and pleasure as his long-delayed orgasm erupted out of him. His release went on and on, unbearable pleasure and agonizing pain woven together until he couldn’t tell one from the other and he was drowning in sensation as he came over and over again, feeling the exquisite pleasure of blood being drawn from his veins as his Master drank from him, until he collapsed, barely conscious, the chains the only thing keeping him upright.

* * * 

Xander dropped to the ground like his legs had been cut out from under him and for a long moment just stared stupidly at his wrists, wondering where the chains had gone. He looked up dazedly, seeing the quiet residential street and the amusement in Dracula’s eyes before he looked away again quickly. He pushed himself shakily to his feet, grateful to find that he was fully dressed, not naked like he’d been in… whatever the hell that had been. He flexed the muscles in his back, testing, and found that the bloody stripes from the whip were gone from his shoulders and back. He hadn’t even embarrassed himself, he was grateful beyond measure to discover as he brushed a hand across the front of his jeans under cover of straightening his clothes.

Avoiding Dracula’s eyes, he briefly considered pretending he hadn’t experienced anything but rejected the idea almost immediately. Aside from the fact that he was too shaken to carry it off, he didn’t want to risk Dracula doing that to him again, which the vampire was bound to, since he’d obviously been trying to prove a point.

“I am forgetting my manners, little Claimed,” Dracula said mockingly and Xander flinched at the title. “It is rude to take another Master’s Claimed human without proper formalities. I will leave you for now and take the matter up with William.”

His cape flared out suddenly and Dracula seemed to fold into himself, his outlines blurring and shrinking and transforming until a large bat flew past Xander’s head, showing just a flicker of scarlet under its wings and Xander ducked instinctively as it banked and circled, swooping around his head, almost tangling in his hair, before ascending lazily into the clear night sky.

Xander wrapped his arms around himself, feeling cold in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature of the August night, and waited for the trembling in his muscles to stop. He let his mind go blank, not willing to think about what had happened just yet, closing his eyes and trying to calm himself down. It was over, he wasn’t hurt, and nothing had really happened to him. 

His breathing evened out and he no longer felt like his legs were about to collapse at any moment and a sudden thought surfaced through the roiling chaos in his mind: How did Dracula know Spike’s original name?


	2. Chapter 2

Xander’s hands moved automatically, washing his hair and body, wishing the routine actions were complicated enough to distract him from his thoughts. But even turning his face directly into the water and letting the spray pound against his closed lids didn’t stop his brain from going places he was refusing to consider. 

Despite all his efforts, he couldn’t stop thinking about the… whatever the hell it was that Dracula had done to him. “Vision” didn’t even begin to cover it. It hadn’t been like watching a movie, he had lived it. And unlike a dream, this wasn’t fading now that he was awake. The illusion had wrapped around him with nothing less than reality. It had had history. He distinctly remembered knowing that he’d been Dracula’s prisoner for weeks, the despair and shame that had overwhelmed him had been all the stronger for having experienced it before.

How was that possible?

He shivered, aware that the cold feeling crawling across his skin was only partially from the fact that the hot water was running out. With a defeated sigh, he shut off the water. He’d been in the shower way too long already, soaping himself over and over, determined to remove every trace of Dracula’s scent from his body, and it was about time he got out and faced the world.

He was going to have to tell Spike what happened, he didn’t have a choice. He could just warn Spike that Dracula was in town but the chances were Dracula would say something and he couldn’t put Spike in the position of being caught off guard. But Spike was going to have a hard enough time dealing with this without Xander smelling of another vampire, so he’d climbed into the shower even before calling Spike with the warning.

~~~~~~~~

“Giles, have you seen Buffy?” 

Xander paced worriedly as he spoke, still damp from his shower, having started making calls as soon as he got out. Spike, of course, had left his damn cell phone on the bedside table, instead of taking it with him so Xander had wasted time swearing at his absent lover who’d made it impossible to for Xander to get ahold of him until he came home. 

“No, I haven’t. Is something wrong?”

“This might sound crazy, but is Dracula a real vampire?”

Xander could hear the surprise in Giles’s voice as he answered: “The Council has always believed him to be real. Why?”

“I think he’s in Sunnydale.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, let’s just say there’s a vampire in town calling himself Dracula and he convinced me he’s the real thing.”

“Convinced you?” Giles asked sharply. “How? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” And he was, really. Just a little rattled still, that was all. “Giles, he turned into a freaking bat. How can he do that?” 

“I have no idea,” Giles admitted frankly, sounding intrigued. Of course, he wasn’t the one who’d had the bat swooping around his head. Among other things that Xander was so not thinking about just yet. “There’s a great deal of myth about Dracula. We’ll have to do some research. I imagine the trick to defeating him lies in separating the fact from the fiction.”

“We need to warn Buffy, because Giles, he’s not an ordinary vampire.”

Xander briefly described what else he’d seen Dracula do: the disappearing/reappearing act, making him drop his cross, and making people see things.

“See things? You mean like the bat?”

Glad that Giles couldn’t see his expression, Xander explained as calmly as he could: “Like full-blown, Technicolor, surround-sound illusions.”

“He made you see something that wasn’t real? What exactly?”

“Chains, cells, your typical late-night horror movie scenario,” Xander told him, leaving out the humiliating parts. 

From the silence on the other end, he suspected he hadn’t sounded as casual as he’d meant to. Thankfully, Giles didn’t pursue it. “I left messages for Buffy at her house and on her cell phone but there was no answer on either phone.”

“She’s not scheduled for patrol tonight,” Giles told him. “Whoever has tonight’s patrol should have returned by now. I’ll check with Sergeant Morgan and find out if anything unusual was reported.” It was a hard and fast rule that anyone on patrol checked in at the end of their patrol, no exceptions. With the quiet summer, the patrols tended to be a quick sweep and home for the night.

“Tell him to cancel all patrols until Dracula’s gone,” Xander suggested. “He’s going to be more than the regular patrols can deal with.” He just hoped that Dracula was something that Buffy and Spike could deal with, not something that would take the whole town to deal with.

“Good thinking, I’ll tell him.” There was a small sigh and Giles told him with false brightness: “All we can do for now is wait for Buffy to check her messages. In the meantime, I’ll start looking into Dracula and Vlad the Impaler.”

“Who?” 

“He’s the historical figure behind the legend of Dracula,” Giles explained. 

“Cute name.”

“Not when you know the reasons behind the name,” Giles said, sharply enough that Xander decided he wasn’t going to ask. 

“I’ll call you if Spike knows anything,” Xander promised, not willing to admit that Dracula apparently knew Spike until he had more information. Why raise questions when Dracula might not know anything more than rumor. The Scourge of Europe had been pretty damn famous in their day too.

“Xander…, are you alright?” 

“I’m ok. A little freaked but fine.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Giles, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Xander hung up the phone, and stood there indecisively for a long minute, wondering if there was anything he could do. The water dripping onto the linoleum stirred him and he realized that drying off and getting dressed probably wouldn’t hurt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the door opening roused Xander from where he was nodding off in front of the tv. He fumbled for the remote and shut off the stupid movie he’d been using to try and stay awake. TV sucked at 4 in the morning.

“Xander?”

He rubbed his eyes, unable to stop the yawn, as he stood up, turning to face Spike who was staring at him in surprise and the beginning of concern. 

“You left your cell phone home again,” he said accusingly. Ok, that hadn’t been the first thing he’d meant to say but it was the one he’d been stewing about the longest as he’d waited impatiently for Spike to come home and felt helplessly out of touch, worrying about whether Dracula was hunting for Spike.

“What’s wrong?” Spike asked, nostrils flaring slightly the way they did when he was reading Xander’s scent. Damn vampire senses.

“There’s a new vampire in town. Says he’s Dracula. Ring any bells?”

Spike’s eyes widened momentarily and then he went very, very still - never a good sign. “Slayer tell you about him?”

Xander shook his head. “Ran into him.”

Spike shifted into his true face and crossed the apartment in a rush, grabbing Xander by the upper arms and staring into his eyes as if trying to read in them the details of what had happened. “Did that bastard touch you?” he snarled.

Xander shook his head quickly, more glad than ever that he’d showered so thoroughly given the way Spike was obviously checking him for Dracula’s scent. “I’m fine. What’s the story, Spike? Why does Dracula know your human name?”

“We spent a few weeks in his Territory ‘round the turn of the century,” Spike answered briefly. “Angelus still mostly called me ’William’ back then. Need you to tell me exactly what happened, Xander.”

Spike’s anger was visibly rising as Xander described his encounter with Dracula. He left out only the things that would send Spike’s temper flaring out of control: the fact that Dracula had threatened to challenge Spike’s Claim and the sex and biting parts of the vision, admitting only that Dracula had made him think he’d been chained up and whipped.

“He dared,” Spike hissed when Xander fell silent. “He dared do that to you?” Spike had released him while he was talking, pacing up and back with short furious strides, practically vibrating with the need to seek revenge. 

“Spike, I’m fine.” Xander repeated. “But we need to figure out how to deal with him.”

Spike’s head snapped around and he glared in yellow-eyed rage at Xander. “Dracula’s mine,” he snarled. “And he’s going to regret touching you for days.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike sat in silent watchfulness, staring blankly at the kitchen walls, breaking his own rule about smoking in the apartment, needing the calming feeling of the warm nicotine smoke in his lungs to combat the out of control rage.

Dracula. The fucking Count himself. In Sunnydale, no less.

Spike hadn’t thought about him in years. Certainly not since Spike himself had returned to the United States. Dracula was an old world vampire, he’d stick out like the proverbial sore thumb in California. Hell, unless he’d changed a lot, which Spike doubted, Drac was conspicuous in the most primitive, backward parts of eastern Europe. No other vampire in the world still kept bug-eating toadies around anymore. With his insistence on holding on to the old aristocratic privileges, Dracula made Angelus seem modern and up to date.

Drac would be here for the Slayer, of course. Whenever Drac got bored, he’d track down the Slayer du jour and makes plans to kill her. He’d had remarkably little success in actually fighting them, probably because the Count wouldn’t be caught dead napping in a crypt, even for a couple of nights. No, Drac had his standards. Had to have his luxury estate, and his special dirt, and his women with him no matter where he was, Spike had known maharajas who traveled with less baggage. Glaciers moved faster than the Count on the hunt. By the time Drac located the current Slayer, and decided she was pretty enough to be worthy of his attention, and found suitable accommodations nearby, the Slayer he was targeting had usually already been killed by something else. From deciding to tackle a particular Slayer to actually confronting her usually took Dracula a good year or more. And a year was often an entire lifetime for a Slayer. As far as Spike knew, Dracula hadn’t managed to actually kill a Slayer in over 200 years.

Poncy git.

Xander padded barefoot in from the bedroom, wearing only a pair of boxers and sat down next to Spike on the kitchen table. Spike slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close, feeling the anger and worry churning inside him lessen as the familiar warmth of his Claimed pressed against him.

“How can he do that stuff, Spike? Turn into a bat and make someone just drop the stake they’re holding?” Xander asked finally, breaking the long comfortable silence.

“Picked up some tricks from the gypsies, luv.” He glanced across at Xander, seeing he was wide-awake despite having had only a couple hours of sleep. “None of it’s real.”

“Some of it’s real, Spike,” Xander countered soberly. “I put down my stake just because he told me to.” 

“Drac’s always been good at thrall,” Spike admitted. “Trick is not to look into his eyes.”

“Figured that out.” Xander didn’t look particularly comforted by that information. 

“Most everything else is illusion, Xander. People been thinking for centuries that he can turn into a bat. He just sends the illusion of a bat into their faces and seems to disappear in a puff of dramatic fog while they’re ducking to avoid the bat.” He gave Xander a sideways look, raising his scarred eyebrow. “Surprised you fell for it, luv. Worked a treat under gaslights, which didn’t spread light as far as modern streetlights do, but I would think you’d recognize sleight of hand when you see it.”

Xander shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. “He got me off balance.”

“That’s how he hunts, Xander. He’s into thrall and seduction, not good honest fighting.”

He clamped down viciously on his anger when Xander flinched at the word ‘seduction’. He’d known Xander was leaving details out to spare him, but he hadn’t confronted him about it. He knew Drac’s methods well enough to guess what Xander was leaving out. 

“But when I tried to stake him, he just kept vanishing.”

He was glad he’d reined in his temper with Xander showing so clearly that he was still rattled from the encounter. Fucking Dracula and his head games.

“Thrall and illusion, luv,” he repeated. “Drac thralls you for just a second or two, then steps behind you while you’re staring into space. No sense of fair play,” Spike sniffed disdainfully and was pleased when Xander gave him a wan smile.

“So, how do we fight him?”

“We don’t.” Spike softened the flat statement by hugging Xander closer to him. “You’re going to stay out of it and I’m going to deal with him. No arguments, Xander,” he said sternly when Xander opened his mouth to protest. “Don’t have time to teach you to resist his thrall and until you can, you’re a liability in this fight. I’ll deal with him.” 

Xander shook his head. “Ok, I get that I might have to sit this one out, but you need to take someone with you. Buffy, for one. Maybe some of the demons are immune to thrall.” He looked pleased with the idea until Spike’s rising growl dropped the smile from his face. Spike had shifted into his true face at the suggestion of someone interfering with his rightful vengeance and his implacable glare bored into his Claimed’s startled eyes. 

“He’s mine. He insulted my Claimed. Anyone gets in my way and I’ll kill them.” He glared wrathfully at Xander’s stubborn expression. “Mean it, Xander. Dracula is mine. It’s my right to take revenge.”

Xander held his gaze for a long time, brown eyes searching Spike’s intently, until he finally nodded reluctantly, accepting Spike’s adamant stance.

“Can you take him, Spike? He’s like 300 years old or something isn’t he?”

Spike took a deep drag on his cigarette and reminded himself that it was a reasonable question and that Xander was nervous, building the Count up in his mind despite Spike’s reassurances. No need to rip into his Claimed for doubting him.

“Not to worry, pet, I can take him. Like I said, Drac’s never been big on fighting. Gonna teach him just how big a mistake he’s made, interfering with my Claimed.” 

Xander started to ask another question but Spike cut him off with a quick kiss. “Later, pet. Go back to bed. I’ll answer the rest of your questions after I’ve had a bit of time to think. Sun’s up and Drac won’t do anything ‘til after sunset.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike hung up the phone and tossed it onto the counter. He hated using the thing - no proper vampire had a phone, in his opinion - but he had to admit that there were times when they were useful. 

Sergeant Morgan had promised to have the information Spike had asked for within the hour and Spike had no doubt that the big half-Kobarien would be good as his word. He’d spent the rest of the morning making plans and it was time to wake Xander up and let him know what was going to happen.

He walked to the bedroom, his eyes easily piercing the dim light. It was only a little past noon and Xander had been up all night, but Spike wanted to make what use of the daylight hours that he could.

“Xander.”

He shook Xander gently, and Xander came awake with a start. “Spike?”

“Need you to get dressed and do me a favor, luv.”

The sleepiness cleared rapidly from Xander’s eyes and he rolled off the bed and to his feet. “What’s up?”

Spike explained over breakfast. He’d asked Sergeant Morgan to use his military connections to track down a list of all new rentals of high end properties in Sunnydale for the past month. 

Leaning against the counter, finishing his second mug of blood, Spike kept careful control over his emotions. Dracula might be a poncy bugger, but he was an old, powerful Master Vampire. Spike was going to take him down, but that didn’t mean he expected it to be easy, no matter what he’d told Xander last night.

“Dracula will have rented someplace swanky, maybe as long as a couple weeks ago. He’s got more money than most governments so he doesn’t give a rat’s arse if he wastes it renting some place for months when he might only use it for a week or two. Sgt. Morgan’s getting us the list of rentals. Gonna need you to spend the afternoon checking possibilities out, luv.”

Xander nodded easily and Spike gave him a stern look. “You don’t go closer than the street, luv. Don’t even get out of the car. Just do a quick drive by.”

“Then how am I supposed to know if I’ve found the right one?” Xander objected and Spike gave him a tight smile. 

“Trust me, luv. You’ll know when you’ve found the right place. Drac’s anything but subtle and he’s about as adaptable as the Rock of Gibraltar. Makes Angelus look like he keeps up with the times. The minute you see something that looks straight out of one of those movies you watch, you’re in the right spot.” He shrugged. “Most of it will be illusion, even Dracula can’t create a castle in a few days by throwing money around, but it won’t be an ordinary house, not for the fucking Count,” his let his scorn show as he pronounced the title.

“What do I do when I find it?”

“Come straight back here. I’ll go in alone, ‘bout half an hour before sunset.”

Xander’s eyebrows shot up. “You can’t go in then. None of the ritzy houses in town are anywhere near the tunnels. God knows you complain about that often enough with Angel’s mansion,” he reminded Spike pointedly. 

“Not going in through the tunnels. You’re going to drive me to the door, and I’m running in under a tarp.”

“Are you crazy? No. Wait until dark if you’re going in the front door.”

“Only way I can be sure he’ll be there, luv, is by hitting his lair before dark.”

Xander opened his mouth to argue and Spike cut him off. “I’ll be fine, Xander, be outside a couple of seconds at most.”

“And what if you can’t get inside?”

Spike didn’t think that was going to be a problem - Drac had his standards and too many steel bars on the door ruined the décor. “Then I’ll just hop back in the car and we’ll re-think things,” he said airily. “More important, soon as I’m inside, you leave and you keep on driving, right out of town, and you don’t come back until I call you and tell you it’s safe.”

“What? I’m not leaving town!” Right on cue, Xander’s arms folded stubbornly over his chest.

“You’ll bloody well do what I tell you for once,” Spike snapped. “I don’t plan on losing this fight, but if something goes wrong, Dracula will come after you because you’re mine and he’s going to want to piss on my ashes by claiming you.” Spike felt himself shift to his true face at the thought and he glared at Xander, willing him to just fucking listen for once. “This apartment won’t be safe because, whether Dracula wants the Court or not, he’ll come here to gloat that he’s killed the Master of the Territory.”

Xander inhaled sharply and Spike knew he was remembering the days he’d spent living in the apartment while Spike had been held prisoner in the Initiative’s cells. Long afterwards, Xander had admitted that he’d been scared, feeling like he was living on top of a ticking time bomb, not knowing when it was going to explode. Hopefully that fear would make Xander think now. 

“If I don’t call you, you go to Angelus in LA for shelter,” he finished harshly, knowing his Sire would protect Xander if Spike was dust. “You hear me?”

“No.”

Xander’s whole body radiated stubborn refusal and Spike wanted to shake him until his teeth rattled.

“Xander…” 

“No! If you’re dead, then I’m going after Dracula with Buffy and every demon in town who’s willing to fight. This is not negotiable, Spike. If you don’t like it, then you damn well better kill him yourself, because if you don’t, I’m going to make sure he’s dead even if it takes an army to take him down.”

Xander glared angrily at him and Spike was torn between wanting to tie him up and drive him to LA personally and shagging him senseless because, in his revengeful fury, Xander was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

For a long minute they glared at each other, at an impasse, then Spike threw back his head and laughed. “Bloody hell, pet. Gonna hold you to that.” 

Wouldn’t that be a sight? Enough to make old Drac long for the good old days of pitchforks and torch-lit mobs outside his home castle. Still grinning, he ducked as Xander took a mock swing at his head, muttering something about arrogant assholes. Spike laughed again, wondering how he’d ever been so lucky as to win Xander’s loyalty and love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike could feel the house as Xander sped up the driveway and continued, driving straight through the landscaping, getting as close to the door as the car could manage. The magic behind Drac’s illusions pickled against his skin as he leapt out of the car and raced up the steps towards the front door. He wasn’t surprised to find it was unlocked - Dracula loved to have his thralled victims just walk straight in to their deaths. He shoved the door open and stepped inside the dim hallway, away from the blazing death of the August sun. 

He waited in the open doorway just long enough to hear the car engine revving as Xander threw it into reverse and drove back out the way he’d come. Sighing in relief that he’d kept his promise, Spike shut the door and quickly shed the heavy oilcloth tarp he’d sheltered under. He stripped off the gloves and ski mask that Xander had procured somewhere and insisted he wear - flatly refusing to drive Spike to Drac’s lair at all unless Spike was wearing them as extra protection against the sun. Like the time Xander had forced him to wear an orange safety vest during the battle at Graduation, Spike’s pride in Xander’s clever ideas and protective instincts was tempered by his distaste for wearing the ridiculous garments. Only Xander could have found a ski mask in California in August in time to force his lover to wear it.

Dropping the gloves to the floor, Spike knew he didn’t have much time. Even if Drac was still asleep - which he doubted - a vampire as old as Dracula would have sensed someone entering his lair. Only question was, would he play hide and seek, or….

“William.”

Dracula stood in one of the entrances to the lobby, the same poised, calm, arrogant bugger that Spike had met nearly a century ago. 

“Vlad,” he said, matching insolence for insolence. Dracula knew he didn’t go by William. 

Dracula stepped back out of the entrance hall, through one of the many doors leading to interior rooms and Spike followed him, finding himself in a large dining room. Dracula had already moved to the large fireplace and now stretched out one hand to the flames, putting them out with one of his gypsy tricks. Spike grinned maliciously. Drac knew they were going to fight and was obviously remembering the time Spike had thrown one of Dracula’s hangers-on into the massive stone fireplace in the Count’s ancestral home. This one wasn’t nearly as big, but a body would still fit inside without too much trouble. 

Drac really was going to have to do something about his fetish for candles and torches, one of these days. Vampires were flammable, after all.

He remained in the doorway, leaning casually against the doorjamb, his eyes rapidly surveying the room, sizing it up as a battleground. Plenty of open space and weapons, enough furniture to be useful but not get in their way. This would do perfectly. Dracula turned back to face him and Spike smirked at him without moving closer.

“Long time.”

“It has been a long time.” Dracula tilted his head just a fraction, “perhaps not long enough for one of us, yes?” 

“Got that right,” Spike agreed, already tired of playing nice. “‘m disappointed, Drac. I’ve known newly turned peasants had better manners than you.”

Dracula’s lips quirked slightly at the insult. “I assume you are here about your little Claimed? You will have to forgive me my presumption in touching him, William. He’s quite irresistible. So many hidden desires, just waiting to be unleashed.” He ran one hand idly along the polished wood of the table, as if he was stroking flesh instead of wood. “Shall I take him from you? I would enjoy having him at my feet, worshipping me.”

Spike fought back the tidal wave of anger that threatened to swamp him. He’d known Dracula was going to play this card. And Dracula was watching him intently, waiting for an attack, expecting that Spike wouldn’t be able to control himself while the older vampire threatened to violate his Claim.

While that may have been true 80 years ago, it was not going to happen now. Spike reined his anger in, holding it in reserve, waiting for the right moment. “So, think you’re going to take down the Slayer? How many is it you’ve tried for over the years? Dozens? Hundreds? Funny that you’ve only managed to kill three in all the times you‘ve tried. I’ve got two in the bag and you’re almost 300 years older than me. Can I give you some lessons, help you take this one down?”

Dracula snarled. The glamour he habitually wore over his true features actually slipped for a moment, revealing the demonic forehead and eyes before the illusion of a smooth human brow and dark eyes returned. “I need no lessons from one as young as you, William. I have tasted this Slayer already, and she will come to me tonight, I will have my fourth kill by morning.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed as he added that up with what he knew of Dracula’s hunting habits. “Awfully fast timetable, innit? Thought it took you three or more tries to get it up.”

Dracula had his slight smile and condescending air firmly back in place. “A peasant such as you, William, knows nothing of the exquisite pleasure to be found in drawing out…”

Drac always had loved to hear himself talk. In one lightning-fast movement, Spike picked up one of the heavy oak dining chairs and flung it at Dracula’s head. Dracula’s patronizing lecture cut off in mid-word as he ducked instinctively. 

The chair sailed over his head and smashed into splinters against the stone wall behind him. Spike didn’t care, he hadn’t expected the chair to accomplish anything but to serve as a distraction for that one critical second. He flung himself across the room the instant the chair left his hands and slammed into Dracula. The older vampire hadn’t had time to brace himself and they both went crashing to the floor, grappling and tearing at each other as they rolled and slid across the carpet. 

Spike tore himself free and bounced back to his feet. Dracula was taller and stronger and he couldn’t risk a wrestling match, his own advantages lay in his speed and fighting skills. He attacked again while Dracula was still rolling to his feet, bringing one leg whipping around in a spin-kick aimed for the other vampire’s stomach. Dracula was quicker than he anticipated, grabbing his foot before the kick landed and shoving him hard, sending him flying backwards to slam down on the massive wood table. 

Spike was rolling even as he landed, avoiding the blow that Dracula threw at him, and dropping off the far side of the table. He landed in a crouch, grabbing a chair by the legs and bringing it up with him as he rose from behind the table.

Dracula leapt onto the table, and Spike swung the chair in a vicious arc, slamming it into the back of his legs and sweeping his feet out from under him. Wood cracked and Dracula fell hard and Spike brought the chair down a second time, smashing the heavy wood over the other vampire. The chair broke apart as it connected and Spike dropped the remaining fragments as Dracula flipped to his feet and threw himself off the table at him.

Spike dropped flat to the floor, taking Dracula by surprise as the older vampire missed the intended tackle and had to twist around in mid-air to avoid landing head first on the carpet. He stumbled a bit as his feet hit the ground and Spike stayed down, spinning on one shoulder, his leg sweeping the ground to cut Dracula’s legs out from under him. Dracula leapt clear and pounced on Spike, using his greater size to advantage, punching Spike in the face twice before Spike got his hands in position and shoved Drac off him, hard enough to send the vampire crashing into the wall. 

Spike bounced up and spun, all in one motion, his foot lashing out and connecting, driving into Dracula’s stomach and sending him stumbling back to slam into the wall again. 

For long moments, they traded blows: punching and kicking and clawing, until Dracula seized both of Spike’s shoulders and dug his clawed nails in, spinning him around and slamming him into the wall. Spike took a similar hold and tried to duplicate the maneuver but the larger vampire set himself and then spun them back around the other direction, and this time Spike felt ribs crack from the force of his back meeting the wall. He let himself hang, supported only by Drac’s hands on his shoulders and Dracula tightened his grip, nails cutting deeply into the flesh of Spike’s upper arms. Spike brought his legs up between them, shoving with the full weight of his body. Dracula’s nails left deep scores in Spike’s arms as his grip was broken, then he was sailing across the room. Spike stumbled backwards at the sudden release, but recovered almost immediately, racing after Dracula, who’d crashed into the table and dropped to the floor. 

Spike was on him before he could get up this time, kicking him savagely in the head with his booted foot. Dracula snarled in fury and rolled under the table to escape the second kick already swinging. Quick as thought, Spike vaulted over the table, his feet coming down just as Dracula emerged from the other side, landing with the sharp crack of broken bones as his boots smashed into Dracula’s back, driving him back down to the floor.

Spike stumbled forward from his own momentum and whirled to find Dracula already back on his feet. He noted with vicious satisfaction that Dracula was bleeding from the nose and mouth where Spike’s kick had landed, and his arrogant mask had been replaced with a furious snarl. 

Dracula lunged at him, taking him to the ground under his greater weight, clawing at his face with those pointed nails and Spike felt his own flesh tear under the attack. Ignoring the pain and the damage, Spike saw his opening and drove his fist into Dracula’s groin. The other vampire screamed and staggered back under the ungentlemanly blow, which Spike followed up with a kick to his already injured torso, yanking a stake out of his pocket the instant the kick landed.

Dracula crashed to the ground like a felled tree and Spike pounced, bringing the stake whistling down with both hands. Dracula barely got his hands up in time, grabbing Spike’s wrists and stopping the downward motion just as the stake grazed his chest. They struggled in deadly silence, the one to bring the stake down, the other to keep it from piercing his chest, until the older vampire summoned all his strength and shoved Spike off him.

Spike flipped in mid-air, twisting like a cat and was spinning around even as his feet touched the ground, bring the stake up and around and slamming it home into Dracula’s chest. Dracula froze in astonished pain, and for what seemed an eternity, the two stared into each other’s eyes, until Dracula’s stare exploded into dust.

For a long moment, Spike stood there in the sudden silence, his own panting the only sound. Gradually he became aware of the blood dripping down his cheeks and the pain in his arms and side. His unnecessary breathing ceased and he looked around him, noticing that the room looked a lot smaller and more modern than it had a moment ago.

Staring down at Dracula’s ashes, Spike frowned thoughtfully. He’d never really believed the rumors that Dracula had found a way to return from dust. Still… Never hurt to take precautions. Without taking his eyes off the scattering of dust on the carpet, Spike stepped over to the wall and grabbed one of the ridiculous torches that Dracula had hanging in wall sconces. He swept the torch over the area, letting the flames lick over the remnants of the powerful vampire, then dropped the burning torch into the deepest drift of ash and stepped back.

The rug caught quickly and Spike took another step back, waiting until the fire had well and truly caught, tongues of flame beginning to lick hungrily at the oak furniture and spreading rapidly across the priceless oriental rug. Satisfied, he spun on his heel and stalked out, leaving Dracula’s lair to the cleansing fire. If Dracula really did have a way of coming back to life after being dusted, he’d find himself in an extremely uncomfortable situation.

Spike closed the front door behind him and strolled down the steps into the deepening twilight, not bothering to even glance back at the orange flames now lighting the windows on one side of the house. Satisfaction welled up inside him. William the Bloody, he thought smugly, Slayer of Slayers and Kicker of Count Dracula’s Arse. He smirked. Might need to work on that last bit to get the wording just right but it had a nice ring to it.

His smile died down a fraction as he remembered Dracula’s claim that he’d bitten the Slayer already. Need to have a little chat with her, he reminded himself, as he pulled out the hated cell phone to call Xander and tell him to come home.


	3. Chapter 3

“Jesus, Spike.” 

Xander had frozen in the doorway, staring in appalled horror at his face, and Spike wondered what he was seeing. Sometimes the inability to look in a mirror was a distinct disadvantage. He could tell by touch and by the reduced pain that the claw marks on his face were healing after the blood he’d drunk, but obviously they were still fairly noticeable, given the way Xander was fixated on them.

“Not to worry, pet. Be gone in a day or two.” The deep gashes in his shoulders where Spike had torn free of Dracula’s claws would take a bit longer to heal completely, but his ribs and the scratches on his face weren’t anything to be worried about.

All in all, he was extremely pleased with how the fight had gone. Dracula had been a better fighter than Spike had expected and, in the end, he hadn’t been able to keep Drac alive and suffering like he’d deserved. Still, he thought smugly, being known as the vampire who staked Count Dracula wasn’t going to do his reputation any harm. 

Xander shot a suspicious glance at the sink and Spike cursed himself for carelessly leaving the empty blood bags scattered around. At this rate, Xander would be coddling him and refusing to participate in celebratory sex. “’m fine, luv,” he repeated firmly. “Told you Dracula wasn’t going to be any problem.”

Xander just shook his head and moved to his side to examine the deep tears in his shoulders. “Your definition of fine needs a little work, Spike. These must hurt like hell.” He moved away before Spike could get his arms around him - he hated to admit it but the injury to his shoulders was still hampering his movement despite six bags of blood. He’d hardly felt them at all in the immediate aftermath of the fight, but Dracula had done some fairly serious damage to the muscles and he was feeling it now. The blood had helped but it would take a day or two for his arms to fully heal. Not that he wasn’t prepared to ignore that for the sake of sex with his Claimed, but he was afraid that was going to be a problem as Xander turned back with the first aid kit in his hands.

He let Xander fuss over him, putting unnecessary bandages over the wounds, grateful that Xander knew better than to even try and put bandages on his face. Vampires simply did not wear bandages, it was too much a sign of weakness. He was disappointed but not surprised that Xander was completely businesslike as his hands moved gently over Spike’s wounds, not letting them stray to more interesting places, despite the fact that Spike had taken off his shirt and was sitting there, perched on the kitchen table, half naked and very horny.

He waited patiently until Xander had finished, then circled his arms around Xander’s waist, preventing him from moving away again. “It’s traditional to welcome the victorious warrior home,” he hinted.

“You so deserve nothing but a peck on the cheek,” Xander told him but a smile tugged at his lips and Spike was relieved to see that Xander had obviously decided that Spike’s injuries weren’t all that serious. 

So he was a bit surprised, not to mention outraged, when Xander did in fact lean over and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Oi!” he protested, but Xander just laughed and did the same thing to his other cheek. 

“Xander…,” he began sternly - no way was Xander going to be allowed to treat him like an invalid - when Xander put a hand over his mouth. Spike glared at him.

“Spike, if you shut up and sit still, you just might get very, very lucky,” Xander told him, dark eyes beginning to sparkle with laughter. 

That sounded promising and Spike teased at Xander’s palm with his tongue, his hands beginning to slide downwards. “Tell me more,” he purred as soon as Xander moved his hand.

Xander frowned at him with mock sternness and removed Spike’s hands from around his waist, setting them firmly down on the table next to him. “I believe I said shut up and sit still.”

Spike lifted an eyebrow questioningly, but kept his hands where they were, curious as to what Xander had in mind.

Apparently what he had in mind was placing his hands on Spike’s hands, lightly pinning them to the table and leaning forward. Firm dry lips nibbled at his own and Spike let his own lips part willingly. Xander teased him with light flicks of his tongue, grazing along his lips and teeth but not delving inside the way Spike wanted him to. He tried capturing that elusive tongue, but Xander evaded him with a throaty chuckle. He abandoned Spike’s mouth entirely to begin kissing his way down Spike’s throat, nipping lightly along the thick veins running just below the surface, mouthing kisses along the taut skin as Spike arched his head back and gave Xander room to work. 

Xander licked and kissed along the line of Spike’s collarbone, his tongue swirling and tasting Spike’s skin. His hands tightened warningly over Spike’s when Spike tried to lift his hands to touch Xander. Spike subsided with a groan, finding this slow, teasing seduction almost unbearably arousing. 

Xander just chuckled again, his breath puffing warmly across Spike’s skin as he did so, and his mouth drifted lower, tasting the smooth skin of Spike’s chest, nipping, kissing and licking his way down to Spike’s brown nipples. He spent a long time there, his tongue teasingly circling first one nipple then the other, until a hoarse groan broke from Spike’s lips and Xander relented, laving his tongue over the tight, crinkled peaks, sending jolts of blissful sensation down to Spike’s eagerly straining erection.

After lingering at his nipples long enough to drive Spike crazy, Xander began journeying south again, tracing the hard muscles of his abdomen, playfully darting his tongue in and out of Spike’s bellybutton in a suggestive rhythm that had Spike stirring restlessly against Xander’s restraining hands. 

Xander lifted his head for the first time since he’d started this tease and looked Spike in the eye. “Don’t move,” he breathed, and raised his hands to deftly unbutton and unzip Spike’s jeans, allowing his aching erection to spring free. 

“Hmmm,” he said consideringly, then - bloody hell! - put his hands back down over Spike’s and bent his head to the task of driving Spike completely out of his mind.

His tongue darted out, tasting the tip of Spike’s hard cock, lapping teasingly at the droplets already welling from the slit, before he shifted around and began licking in earnest, his warm tongue caressing the entire length, slow languid motions of his tongue that made Spike clench his fingers down hard on the edge of the table to keep the still, as he threw his head back, hips bucking up into the incredible sensation. 

Xander worked tirelessly to drive him to the brink, shifting back to swirl his tongue around the engorged head of Spike’s penis, then abandoning that, to lick down the length again, his tongue exploring every contour, teasing the foreskin, even nipping lightly, surprising a whimper of lust out of Spike. That seemed to be what Xander had been waiting for and he finally swallowed Spike down, encasing the straining length in his hot mouth and sucking hard.

The slow teasing seduction had done its work and Spike erupted with a yell, emptying himself into Xander’s eager mouth, his come pulsing out of him into that warm, loving cavern, as Xander struggled to swallow all of his offering.

Xander drained him dry, pulling back a little and letting some of the semen escape from the corner of his mouth. Spike bent over him, his freed hands circling Xander’s shoulders as Xander grinned up at him triumphantly. 

“Bloody hell, pet.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moment he got close enough to sense the Slayer, a wave of fresh anger swept over him and Spike forgot all about his promise to Xander. He crossed the distance between them in a flash and then he was on her, yanking her away from her toy soldier, his fist connecting before she knew he was even in the same cemetery. The blow sent her flying, crashing into a tombstone, the force of the impact cracking the granite and sending her sprawling to the ground amid shards of broken stone.

“What the hell?”

Spike ignored the shout from the Slayer’s boy, leaping forward to where the Slayer was still scrambling to her feet after the unexpected attack. He yanked her up and punched her again but she was prepared this time and set herself, absorbing the blow and throwing one of her own. 

“What is your problem, Spike!” she yelled. She punched him again, in the stomach this time, hard enough to knock him back a step, breaking his grip on her shirt and sending a stab of pain through his injured ribs despite the additional blood Xander had made him drink. The pain brought him back to his senses and he forced himself to back off. He’d promised Xander he wouldn’t kill her, he reminded himself, taking a firm grip on his temper.

Never shifting his furious glare from her face, Spike ignored the pain in his shoulders and swung backwards with one fist, knocking the boyfriend off his feet as he approached at a run. The soldier stumbled to the ground, the stake he’d held clutched in one hand spinning away into the grass as he fell.

“Spike, stop! What the hell’s going on?” The Slayer stepped back one step, disengaging but remained on guard, wary of another attack.

“You knew Dracula was in town and you didn’t give so much as a warning to people who are supposed to be your allies.” He snarled, ripping off the orange and blue scarf she’d tied around her neck, exposing the bite mark the scarf had been covering. “Or are you going to try and tell me it wasn’t Dracula who gave you that?”

The Slayer lifted a guilty hand, covering the two puncture marks on the right side of her neck. 

“What business is it of yours, Spike?” The soldier said contemptuously from behind him. “Hoping to join his fan club while he’s in town?”

Spike didn’t bother even glancing in the soldier’s direction. “Xander was going out of his mind worrying about you, trying to warn you, and you knew all along that Dracula was in town. What the hell are you playing at? You endangered Xander, you stupid bint. The only reason you’re not dead already is because he doesn’t want me to kill you, no matter how much you deserve it.”

The Slayer looked surprised, her anger at what she’d obviously thought of as an unprovoked attack fading into concern. “What are you talking about? Is Xander all right?”

“Don’t be thicker than you already are, Slayer. You know that Xander is a target for other Master Vampires because he’s my Claimed. You saw what Angelus did to him during our little dust up two years ago. Why the hell didn’t it occur to you that Dracula might take a shot at Xander while he’s in town?”

Now that it was too fucking late, the Slayer looked horrified. “He didn’t, did he?” she asked faintly.

“Yes, he damn well did,” Spike snarled. “Just lucky he didn’t do more than mess with Xander’s head with his mojo, since Xander didn’t have a clue who he was dealing with, thanks to the fact that you hadn’t bothered to warn us.”

“That’s enough, Spike!” The soldier clamped a hand down on Spike’s shoulder, attempting to force him around to face him instead of the Slayer. Spike shook him off like the annoying mayfly he was but otherwise ignored him.

“No, Riley, he’s right.” The Slayer hadn’t taken her eyes off Spike even as she addressed her boyfriend. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think that Dracula would be a problem for anyone but me.” She flushed. “He… he made it seem like he was only in town because he was interested in me.”

“Of course he did, you idiot, that’s how he works. How a Slayer as ignorant about their main opponents as you has survived this long, I’ll never understand,” Spike said disgustedly. “Drac’s big into the seduction thing - fucking hell, there’s entire books on his techniques ever since the poncy git went public a century ago.” 

She blushed again and Spike gave her a tight, contemptuous smirk, still ignoring the soldier who’d come to stand beside her, arms folded, trying to look like he mattered. “Let me guess: Drac told you he’s searched everywhere for you, that you are the only one worthy of him, that you are different from everyone else.” The Slayer’s face was on fire now and she wasn’t meeting his eyes any more. Spike snorted in contempt. “Figures. You birds have been falling for the same lines for 300 years. No wonder Drac doesn’t bother coming up with new ones.” 

He fished a cigarette out of his pocket and lit up, blowing the smoke in the soldier’s direction. “You listening, soldier boy? Never hurts to pick up a few hints about what works and what doesn’t.” 

The soldier was staring at the Slayer, looking absolutely betrayed. 

“Riley, no, it wasn’t like that,” she began, but Spike interrupted.

“You two can handle the relationship spat on your own time,” he said impatiently. He gave the Slayer a hard stare. “You put my boy in danger again and we’ll have more than just this little slap and tickle we had tonight. We clear?”

She wrenched her gaze away from her boyfriend. “I’m sorry, Spike. I would never deliberately put Xander in danger. I’ll call him tomorrow and apologize.”

“See that you do.” Not that it would matter to Xander who would be far too forgiving as always. “I’ve taken care of Dracula, and Xander’s talking to your mum. Did you even realize that you left her wide open for a return visit since Dracula got her to let him into your house?”

He deliberately ignored the fact that Dracula had probably thralled the Slayer into not talking about his little midnight biting party. Let her feel guilt over putting her mum in danger, might make the lesson sink in a bit more. He was guessing at what had happened, of course, but, given that Joyce had told them that she’d let a strange man into the house last night and Dracula’s hunting patterns being what they were, it wasn’t much of a stretch to guess that the Count had wafted into the Slayer’s bedroom last night for a little mind-fuck and biting session. 

The tidal-wave of color that swept across her face this time was pure embarrassment. Soldier boy was back to looking betrayed and all was right in Spike’s world. His work was almost done here. 

“Don’t worry, Slayer. I killed the big bad monster for you,” he said in mock soothing tones. 

That snapped her out of it and she glared at him. “Damnit, Spike. Dracula was my kill.”

Spike smirked at her. “Damn shame, you missing a prime kill like that. But if you wanted the credit, you should have killed him when you had the chance instead of acting like a lovesick schoolgirl.” 

He strode off without another word, hearing the soldier’s hurt questions starting up again behind him. The Slayer might be an idiot about things she should bloody well think through before putting everyone around her in danger, but that boy had insecurities the size of the Mayor post-transformation. That relationship wasn’t going to last long. 

Crossing the cemetery heading for home, Spike wondered idly if he could get up a betting pool on when the final breakup would happen. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I feel like such an idiot, Xander.” Joyce shook her head, seeming bewildered by her own actions.

Xander had driven over to the house, wanting to check on her after Spike had told him that Dracula claimed he’d bitten Buffy last night and told him that the Count had a fetish for biting women in their own homes. 

Spike had left to track down Buffy. He was angry that Buffy hadn’t told anyone about Dracula, but he’d promised he wouldn’t attack her physically. Xander was pretty sure Spike wouldn’t lose his temper and break his promise, especially because he was still hurting from his fight with Dracula. When he wasn’t too angry to think straight, Spike did have a streak of caution in him, and Buffy was growing into her Slayer powers, getting to be stronger and a better fighter. Even Spike had commented on the change he’d seen in her over the summer. 

“You’d think I would know better, but he seemed like such a nice, normal guy. Maybe a little pale.” Her brows drew together in puzzled uncertainty. “I don’t understand what happened. I’m not like this. I don’t invite strange men in for coffee, especially not vampires.” She flashed him a tiny smile. “Spike being the exception, of course.”

“This wasn’t your fault,” Xander told her reassuringly. “I mean, this is Dracula we’re talking about, not some two-bit minion. He had some pretty freaky abilities.” That was putting it mildly. “Getting people to invite him in is kind of what he does.” 

She nodded, still looking a little shaken by the fact that she’d invited a vampire inside her home. 

“Why don’t I call Willow’s friend Tara to come over and do a disinvite spell, just to be absolutely sure,” he suggested, glad he’d had the idea when Joyce looked relieved.

“Thanks, Xander. I know it’s silly, but I think that would make me feel better.” Joyce frowned. “The spell won’t keep Spike out, will it?”

“Yeah, it will, but all you have to do is re-invite him.” He grinned. “He’ll love it if you make sure to invite him in in front of Buffy.”

Joyce shook her head, obviously torn between smiling and frowning over the continuing friction between Buffy and Spike. They respected each other and worked together well, but they never had found a way to like each other.

Xander checked the time. It was barely 10:00, he was pretty sure Tara would still be awake and willing to come over. Tara was like that. Xander didn’t know her very well yet but she was just about the kindest person he’d ever met and he was sure she would be willing to come over tonight so that Joyce could sleep easy. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m really sorry, Xander. I didn’t think. I never meant to put you in danger.”

Buffy looked at him apologetically. She’d called this morning and arranged to meet him at the espresso pump. She’d greeted him quietly and fidgeted uncomfortably as they placed their order, hardly saying anything until the waitress had set their coffees down and left them alone. Xander had known why she was calling, of course, and he’d had all morning to think about what he wanted to say.

“Buffy, I want to say it’s no big deal. But I’m having a hard time because it could have been.” 

It really was hard to get too worked up when everything had worked out ok but Dracula could have caused Spike serious problems with the Court. A vampire as legendary as Dracula made waves just by being in town. If he had decided to just stroll into the Court and announce himself, every vampire in the Court would have been considering whether to switch allegiances and watching Spike like a hawk for any sign of weakness. A heads up that he was in town would have been really helpful so that Spike wasn’t taken by surprise.

Fortunately, Dracula really had been in town because of Buffy and hadn’t bothered to learn anything about who the Master of the Territory was before arriving. As far as anyone could tell, he’d set himself up in his “castle” and hadn’t had any intention of dealing with anyone but the Slayer until he’d happened to sense Xander’s Claim Mark and gotten curious. 

Granted, if she’d warned them, Xander might not have had to deal with Dracula’s freaky illusion experience but he’d been working steadily at repressing everything he’d seen and felt during that, and thought it would retreat into nothing more than the occasional nightmare soon.

“I know. Spike explained it to me.” She rubbed her face absently as if she could still feel Spike’s fist crashing into it. “The thing is…” she stopped. “I screwed up, Xander,” she said bluntly. “And I can’t seem to stop screwing up.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked blankly. 

“I love Riley,” she said, somewhat irrelevantly, in Xander’s opinion. They’d been talking about Dracula, not Riley. “He’s everything I thought I wanted. A nice, normal guy. Solid. Dependable.”

“What is he, State Farm?” Xander interjected. “What’s this got to do with Dracula?”

“I’m getting there,” she told him and Xander settled in for what was clearly going to be a long, convoluted explanation.

“Then Riley turns out to be almost a male Slayer. You know, college guy by day, demon hunter by night. And it was like: wow, I’d found the perfect guy. Who else would ever understand my crazy life so well. And Riley was such a good fighter, better than any human, and we were so well-matched.”

“And now he’s just a nice, normal guy again,” Xander interrupted, suddenly understanding where she was going, although he still couldn’t figure out what this had to do with Dracula.

“Yeah, and all of a sudden he can’t keep up with me, and I’m worried about him getting hurt, and…” she trailed off, looking miserable.

“And you’re leaving him behind.”

Buffy nodded. “I know he hates it but I can’t risk him getting hurt.” She looked up, eyes fierce. “And he’s going to get hurt, Xander, because he doesn’t accept that he’s not as strong as he used to be, and he keeps trying to protect me from things I can handle myself.”

She held up a hand, cutting him off before he could answer. “That’s why I didn’t tell anyone, especially Giles, about Dracula. I really didn’t think he was a threat to anyone but me. And I know that was stupid.” She flashed him an apologetic look. “But I thought if Riley and I researched him together, Riley would feel useful. Necessary. And he is,” she insisted, “but…”

“But to Buffy, not to the Slayer,” Xander finished for her.

They fell silent and Xander wondered what to tell her. That Riley would never be happy as research guy and, by the way, he sucked at it because he was used to being spoon-fed information by the Initiative? That trying so hard to keep Riley happy had pushed everyone else away, and Giles was about to leave town because of it?

First things first, he thought. “Buffy, I think you need to figure out if Riley is really what you want.” It was his turn to hold up a hand, cutting off her automatic response and forcing her to listen. “If you need someone who can physically keep up with you, then Riley’s not that guy. That’s not anyone’s fault, it’s just the way it is.” 

“But it’s not his fault that he can’t keep up with me anymore, and I feel horrible blaming him for it.”

“Buffy, will you listen to what you’re saying? Riley is a normal human. Maggie Walsh pumped him full of drugs and made him into the super-soldier you first met. That isn’t who Riley is, and it never was. That was Maggie Walsh’s twisted experiment, not a real person. If that’s who you’re in love with, that person doesn’t exist.”

She glared at him and Xander just stared back until her eyes fell. 

“I think you need to figure out who you are, Buffy, before you can know if Riley, or anyone else, is right for you. You’ve always seen yourself as two separate people: Buffy and the Slayer. And frankly, as far as I can tell, only one of those two loves Riley.” He hesitated, then decided to just lay it out for her. “I think you’re having so much trouble now because, when Riley was super-soldier guy, both sides of you loved him.”

Buffy stared at him for a long time, fingers restlessly shredding her napkin into confetti. “Is that what happened with you and Spike?” she asked finally.

Xander’s eyebrows shot up, not having expected her to make the comparison. But, as much as he hated being compared to Riley, it wasn’t an unfair one. “Kind of,” he answered slowly, trying to think of how to explain. “Spike had to learn to accept that, while I’m human and a lot weaker than he is, he can’t protect me from everything or force me to stay out of dangerous situations.” He smiled fleetingly. “We still have arguments about that and he’d still like to keep me out of fights,” he admitted. “I had to decide if I could deal with the fact that’s Spike’s a vampire. He’s always going to be stronger and faster than me, and he’s never going to think like a human.” 

He shrugged, “Maybe you should talk to Spike because he’s pretty much dealing with your side of things and I’m seeing them from Riley’s.” He grinned at her expression. “Ok, maybe not,” he conceded. God knows what Spike would tell her. “What you have to understand is that it’s just as hard for Riley as it is for you. Spike and I have almost broken up over him trying to keep me wrapped in cotton wool. I resented the hell out of it and I can only imagine how much more Riley resents it when you do it. The guy’s a soldier and he’s used to being in command.”

Buffy winced and Xander could tell she’d gotten the point.

“If you two can’t find some way to compromise,” he finished gently. “Where you let him do what he has to and he doesn’t deliberately act recklessly, you’re never going to be happy. Spike had to learn to accept that I’m going to protect him as much as he protects me, and I had to learn to think before doing crazy stuff.” 

“But you guys made it.”

“Yeah, because we’d rather be together than apart, even if sometimes we drive each other up the wall.” He looked at her seriously. “You know that stuff about love being easy? It’s crap. Especially if you’re in it for the long haul.”

“So, you’re telling me I have to let him risk his life, or he won’t be happy?” Buffy didn’t sound happy about that.

“I’m not saying anything of the kind. You guys have to find your own balance and what works for you. The fact that I’m not out there patrolling every night has nothing to do with Spike. But if Riley needs to patrol to be happy, you’re going to have to decide if you can handle that. If he stops patrolling because that’s what you need him to do, it’s never going to work in the long run because he’ll resent you for making him quit.” 

Buffy nodded slowly, and slid off her stool. She stood there beside the table for a moment, eyes thoughtful. “Thanks, Xander.” 

“What are you going to do?” he couldn’t help asking, looking at her curiously.

“I’m not sure. But I think I’m going to start by talking to Giles. I need to figure out what being a Slayer really means.”

She turned and left the restaurant without another word, and Xander sat in stunned relief, a smile slowly spreading across his face. He wished he could take the credit but he hadn’t seen that coming at all. 

No way would Giles leave now, not with Buffy asking him for help. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike lifted his head, every sense alert. 

Xander slept on, oblivious. The disturbance Spike had felt hadn’t come from his Claimed. For one moment, he’d thought….

Spike’s eyebrows swooped together as he struggled to grasp the fleeting sensation that had woken him, but it was gone. 

All was quiet in the Court, he discovered, extending his senses and finding no trace of motion except the normal, nearly silent movements of the sentries on duty downstairs, guarding the entrances to the Court through the long daylight hours.

Shrugging, he decided it must have been his imagination. He already couldn’t remember exactly what it was that had woken him so abruptly. Settling back down, he pulled Xander closer to him and went back to sleep.

~~~~~~

On the other side of the world, a group of extremely determined amateurs sighed in relief even as the pounding reached a crescendo. 

It was done.

The magic was already seeping into the fabric of the town, permeating the very soil as if it had always been there. It would lie quiescent, undetectable, activated only as needed. The two most directly affected had already had their memories and their physical reality adapted to fit the requirements of the spell. It was not possible to anticipate every need in the weeks and years to come, so the background spell would ensure that gaps were filled, and records were in place, as they became needed. Anyone with links to the sister and mother, anyone who would necessarily have previously encountered the Key in this new form, would be sensed by the background magic they had set and have appropriate memories added and altered upon their first encounter with the Key.

Modern technology had caused the greatest difficulty. Their youngest member had been recruited and trained for this eventuality, and it was he who had woven the portions of the spell that would allow the passive magic in the town to travel across electronic and telephone links to distant persons, altering their memories as needed. Once hoped to be an easy addition to a spell that had already been adapted and worked on for centuries - after all, letters had been taken into account generations ago - it had almost proved a fatal flaw in their weaving until Brother Johann had found the way. The delay had been necessary to avoid glaring holes in what needed to be a seamless cover, holes that would make the Key vulnerable to discovery, but the delay had proved costly, and they had barely finished the spell in time.

The spells they had woven would be undetectable to any deliberate search. It might be glimpsed out of the corner of an eye, as it were, but only if the person was searching for something else, in which case they were likely to ignore it. The Beast wasn’t subtle enough to search for it with anything less than brutal directness and those methods should fail. And in any case, if they had overlooked something, the protector they had chosen would be standing between the Beast and the Key, guarding the Key with her life.

Their goal accomplished, there was room for the terror that had been held back by intense concentration alone as the strongest metal known to their ancestors, reinforced time and again over the centuries, bent and crumpled like tissue paper under the blows hammering against it.


	4. Chapter 4

Sitting out in the courtyard off Giles’ apartment, Xander smiled as he watched Giles working. He’d found Giles sitting at the table in the courtyard outside his apartment, escaping the heat inside, surrounded by books and notes, scribbling notes to himself from ideas he’d found in the Watcher Journals.

He hadn’t realized how quiet and depressed Giles had gotten until suddenly he wasn’t any more. Buffy’s decision to ask Giles to help her figure out what being a Slayer meant had lead the two of them to a decision to resume her training - something they hadn’t done formally since Buffy had started college. Ever since their talk, Giles had been drawing up plans and consulting other Watcher’s journals for ideas and generally looking like he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Xander just hoped Buffy realized what she’d gotten herself into. Giles looked like he had a scary amount of training planned.

He was continuing to organize his Slayer materials, but now it wasn’t just something he needed to do before he could leave town, to ensure he done the best he could by his Slayer. Now it was a convenience, something he recognized as being a good idea, in general, but no longer urgent. 

“You should join us, Xander,” Giles told him, picking up the conversation from where hed stopped talking to jot down a note to himself about his latest idea. “Somehow we stopped our demon study sessions,” he frowned. “I’m not quite sure when that happened.”

“Neither am I,” Xander admitted. “Some crisis or other.” Graduation, he thought. He’d gotten so busy the summer after graduation that he’d stopped studying with Giles entirely. “You’re going to have a demon study night?” he asked curiously.

“Yes, Buffy and I are going to work together for an hour or two, five days a week. I’m planning on spending one of the sessions on demons. It’s something she should have been studying all along, but somehow I was never quite able to get her to deal with the subject systematically, instead of just as needed.”

“Demon of the week sessions.” Xander had gotten involved in some of them and they were great for in-depth knowledge of one particular species, but very different from the survey course of the kind Giles had been teaching him.

“Quite so. Would you be interested in continuing your studies?” Giles gave him a keen glance.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He’d enjoyed his sessions with Giles and some of the information had ended up being very useful on the Hellmouth. Of course, learning about non-dangerous demons had been if anything even more interesting. A thought struck him. “You know, Giles, I bet some of the patrol volunteers would love to learn more about the demons they’re fighting. What do you think about making it an open class?”

Giles looked intrigued. “That’s a very good idea, Xander. Do you really think any of them would be interested?”

“Yeah. And frankly, we should think about including Riley and the other former Initiative soldiers. They need a serious crash course in the harmless demons.”

“I’d think twice about that, if I were you. They might just use the information to hunt down all your little friends.”

Xander started in surprise at the sudden voice behind him. 

Giles closed his eyes for one brief second. “Hello, Ethan,” he said resignedly, looking over Xander’s shoulder towards the stairs leading down into the small courtyard. 

Xander twisted around and saw Ethan Rayne - who couldn’t ever resist making an entrance - posed on the bottom step, a puckish smile on his lips.

“For your information, they have given their word that they will not interfere in Buffy’s work.”

“And you believe them?” Ethan was as good as Spike at conveying disbelief with nothing more than a single lifted eyebrow.

“Yes,” Giles said stiffly. “I do.”

Xander hid a grin. Giles didn’t trust the former Initiative soldiers still stationed in town at the army base further than he could throw them and only the fact that Sergeant Morgan was keeping tabs on them had reconciled him to their continued presence in town. It had to be killing him to vouch for them now, but he seemed to be making a point of taking the opposite side from Ethan on every subject. 

Ethan sauntered over to the table and settled down in an empty chair, as comfortable as if Giles had effusively welcomed him instead of just looking irritated at the interruption. “Rather trusting of you, Ripper.”

“Is there some reason you’re here, Ethan?”

“Now, Ripper, you’re going to make me think you aren’t happy to see me.”

Xander thought Ethan would do better with Giles if he would stop calling him by his teenage nickname. Giles reacted to it every time the way Angel did when Spike called him ‘Angelus’. Which was probably the point, now that he thought about it. Ethan might be annoying the hell out of Giles but he wasn’t being ignored.

Xander had expected Ethan to return to town immediately after the fight with the Initiative and begin trying to get Giles to date him - he was so not thinking about them doing anything but sipping tea together at the Espresso Pump. Instead, they hadn’t seen or heard anything from the chaos mage for nearly two months. Giles hadn’t acted surprised or upset by the disappearing act, or as if he’d even noticed that Ethan hadn’t followed through, except for the occasional, overly-casual question about the spell Ethan had done to short out the chip and Ethan’s agreement with Spike, allowing him to return to Sunnydale without Spike killing him.

By the time Ethan did start stopping by, Giles was on the defensive, no longer quite so sure about Ethan’s motives for wanting to return to Sunnydale and regarding his one-time friend with wary eyes. Remembering the almost smug certainty Giles had shown when he first learned what favor Ethan had asked Spike for in exchange for remove the chip, Xander couldn’t help admiring the man’s strategy. He suspected Ethan would have had a much harder time with Giles if he hadn’t prudently absented himself over the summer.

As far as he knew, Ethan still hadn’t brought up the subject of dating to Giles, but watching the two men verbally jousting, Xander could tell it was only a matter of time. Spike was right, the two of them were so obvious, they might as well be carrying signs that read “former lovers”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carrying a stack of boxes up the dormitory stairs, Xander suspected that the fall and spring moving parties were going to be a part of his life for awhile. Riley was helping as well, but the two of them were being carefully polite to each other, which didn’t make for a happy work crew. Riley was apparently still upset about Spike hitting Buffy the other night. 

Actually, Xander had been ticked off about that too - not that he intended to admit that to Riley - but for completely different reasons. Spike had promised him he wouldn’t attack Buffy and Buffy had set Spike’s healing ribs back a day when she defended herself. Oh, he understood why Spike had been upset, but he and Buffy really needed to figure out another way to communicate when they were angry at each other.

Riley was mad because he couldn’t stop thinking about Buffy as being a girl, which was just stupid. Spike hitting Buffy and Buffy hitting Spike wasn’t the same as two normal humans hitting each other. For Riley to still be holding a grudge days later and thinking Spike was dangerous and out of control was beyond stupid. Well, ok, Spike was dangerous, but not to Buffy and it was past time Riley learned to accept that. 

Shaking off his thoughts about things he couldn’t change, Xander set his boxes down inside the room and looked around. Buffy was in a different room this year, a single, not a double and she was staring pensively out the window, not unpacking the first load of boxes. Crossing the room, Xander looked out over her shoulder and saw she had a view of the parking lot and Riley, gathering up a second load of boxes out of the back of the truck he’d borrowed.

“How’s it going with you two?”

Buffy glanced around and smiled. “We’ve decided to try being just Buffy and Riley for awhile, and see how it goes.”

“As opposed to being two other people?”

Buffy gave him a look that said he was being dense. “No Slayers or commandoes allowed on dates,” she explained. “No patrolling together, no training together, no nothing involving death or danger. We’re going to go to movies, and out to eat, and skip hand in hand through the park…” she scowled and smacked him as he made a gagging sound. “Work with me, Xander, that was a metaphor.” 

“Hey,” he protested. “It’s not my fault that the image of Riley skipping is now permanently stuck in my head.” He was going to have a really hard time not giggling when Riley got back with his second load of boxes.

“Speaking of which - the dating part, not the skipping which I am now seriously regretting ever saying - can you babysit Dawn tonight?”

“Who?” Xander asked blankly. 

“Earth to Xander. Dawn - my terminally annoying kid sister.”

“Of course, sorry,” Xander shook his head to clear it. “I guess I’m more in need of coffee than I realized.” It wasn’t even the first time Buffy had asked him to babysit for her sister. The image of Riley skipping was clearly messing with his mental processes. “What time and for how long?” he asked.

He didn’t think Spike would mind. Spike adored Dawn even if he hated for people to know that. Buffy didn’t even call him on it - not since she’d discovered that Xander could babysit Dawn in her place far more frequently when Spike wasn’t trying to prove to her how little he cared and objecting to Xander’s “wasting his time with the little brat” for show.

Spike thought Dawn had spunk - which she did, sometimes almost too much. He supposed it came from growing up as kid sister to the Slayer. Even if she hadn’t known what was going on, she’d known a long time before Joyce did that Buffy snuck out at night. Xander grinned, remembering Buffy’s relief that years of blackmail had come to an end after he and Spike spilled the beans to Joyce. He suspected it was the reason she had eventually forgiven them for telling Joyce she was the Slayer.

“Mom has a date tonight and I was supposed to be going out with Riley. Have you ever tried to get some quality nookie in with Dawn around?”

Xander grinned. He’d gotten some extremely high-quality nookie during babysitting duty, on the Summers’ couch after Dawn had gone to bed, but he wasn’t about to admit that. He settled for the safer option.

“Your mom has a date? With who?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Joyce has a date? With who?”

“Some guy she meet at the gallery. Buffy didn’t know his name. That’s why we’re babysitting.”

“Slayer’s letting her mum go out on a date with a stranger?” Spike asked, looking absolutely outraged at the idea. 

“Well, first dates are usually with people you don’t know. That’s kind of the point.” 

“Slayer going with them?”

“Hello, Mr. Victorian age, we don’t use chaperones any more. Well, except at school dances,” he conceded, “and I don’t think those count.” He and Spike certainly hadn’t had anyone interrupt them in the corners of the school gym on prom night. Of course, that could have been because Giles and Wesley had been two of the chaperones that night.

“Give me the phone,” Spike demanded. “Going to give the Slayer a piece of my mind. First Dracula and now this…” 

Xander straddled Spike’s lap, stopping him as he started to get up off the couch to look for the phone himself. “Spike, calm down. Joyce is allowed to date. You’re going to have to let her grow up some time,” he said kindly, eyes shining with laughter.

Spike glared at him. “I am calm.” Xander just looked at him, eyebrows raised. Spike subsided into sulky silence. 

“Not helpin’ babysit the kid,” he announced after a brief silence.

“No problem. I’m sure I can handle it on my own,” Xander answered cheerfully, deciding it would be safer not to be caught rolling his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where’s Spike?” Dawn demanded immediately, looking extremely put out when Xander walked into the house alone. Dawn had a huge crush on Spike. She used to have one on Xander but it had died a quick death shortly after she met Spike. Xander had been amused and sympathetic when Dawn had switched her crush from him to Spike. What wasn’t to crush on? Handsome, dangerous, mouth-wateringly sexy, Xander couldn’t fault Dawn’s taste.

Xander gave her a conspiratorial grin. “Found out your mom was on a date. She’s being stalked even as we speak.”

Dawn giggled. “That’s cute.”

“Well, given that your mom’s last date was with a wife-killing robot, it’s also not a bad idea.” It had actually been Dawn who’d told him about that incident, long after it happened, since he hadn’t been friends with Buffy and hadn’t even met Dawn yet at the time. He’d thought she was kidding but Willow had confirmed it.

Dawn made a face. “Ted was creepy even when I thought he was human.”

“So you say now.”

“I so knew it at the time,” Dawn insisted, following him into the living room. “What videos did you bring?” 

It was a standing tradition that Xander brought movies with him on nights he babysat. Dawn liked the the sci-fi movies Xander usually brought over, saying that the romances her mom and Buffy liked to watch were “so lame”.

When Joyce first began inviting them over for dinner, the summer Buffy had run away to Los Angeles, Dawn had always “coincidentally” been out of the house spending the night at a friends’ house. It wasn’t until Joyce had known Spike for almost two months that she first allowed him to meet Dawn. It had been just one more thing that Buffy had gotten upset about that fall and she had threatened Spike with unbelievably graphic violence if he hurt or upset Dawn in any way. She’d argued furiously with her mother that Spike couldn’t be trusted around Dawn but Joyce had put her foot down. Spike had been astonished and touched that Joyce trusted him that much - Buffy was the Slayer and could take care of herself but letting Spike be around her 12-year old younger daughter? Spike had frankly had no interest in meeting the Slayer’s kid sister at the time, but the combination of a new opportunity to piss Buffy off and Joyce’s trust had been irresistible. 

Joyce had trusted Spike, but only so far. It was only after the craziness caused by the Hansel-and-Gretel demon that Joyce had finally allowed Dawn to be around Spike without someone else there: herself or Xander or Buffy. Knowing that Spike hadn’t done anything to hurt her family, even after Joyce had thrown him out of the house and called him a “monster” and a “thing”, had cemented the trust between her and Spike. Joyce had told Spike that she’d been wrong not to trust him and, without making a production of it, she simply stopped worrying about making sure that someone else was around. 

Dawn had been ecstatic. Her crush on Spike had been full-blown by then and she’d been pestering her mom for a long time about limiting her Spike time to supervised visits. 

Spike, up to that point, had pretty much just tolerated Dawn - who, admittedly could   
be annoyingly immature and bratty at times. Somehow, being quietly granted Xander’s unofficial big brother status with Dawn had changed his amused tolerance into genuine affection. He’d always approved of her fearless spunk and he’d gradually gotten the chance to know the quieter Dawn, who liked school and asked him to help her with her homework. Watching Spike patiently correcting her English and History papers always brought a smile to Xander’s face. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound that woke him was so unusual that it took Spike a moment to place it.

Someone was knocking, loudly and impatiently, on the apartment door. 

It couldn’t be later than noon, from the feel of it, and a quick glance at the clock on Xander’s side of the bed confirmed it. Bloody fucking hell. It this was a solicitor, he was pretty sure Xander would forgive him for eating them.

Spike rolled to his feet in one smooth motion and walked quickly into the living room, feeling a jolt of worry that Xander was hurt or in need of help. Stretching his senses out, he listened for some clue as to who was outside the door, hearing the annoyed muttering just before the hammering began again. 

He cursed fluently and reached out to snatch the door open, then hesitated. Xander would kill him if he opened the door naked. Swearing out loud, he retreated to the bedroom and rapidly yanked on a pair of pants and a t-shirt. He pulled on his boots and took an extra second to grab the oilskin tarp he kept in the closet for emergencies and shook it out, already wrapping it around himself as he returned to the front door, where the knocking had gotten louder and even more impatient.

He undid the locks that Xander insisted on fastening whenever he left and yanked the door open. Dawn squeaked in surprise, her fist still raised. “Spike!” she exclaimed happily.

“You’re leaving,” he told her. Not giving her time to argue, he simply pulled the oilskin over his head and grabbed Dawn’s hand, hurrying her down the stairs and towards the car. Dawn protested the whole way, but didn’t struggle, for which Spike was grateful. Bits of his fingers were exposed and he could feel the heat of the sun blistering his skin as he struggled to keep the cloth securely wrapped around him while towing a reluctant teenager towards his car. 

“In the car,” he snapped, sliding in behind the wheel and waiting impatiently for Dawn to climb in beside him.

“Spike, what’s wrong? I just wanted to talk to you.” Dawn sounded a little scared and she stared at him through the open passenger door. 

Spike gritted his teeth against the urge to yell at her and reached across to pull her inside, ignoring the deadly sun as the tarp slipped back from his hand as it closed around her arm, tugging her gently inside. Dawn realized what was happening and scrambled inside, slamming the door with its blacked-out window closed and shutting out the sun.

“It’s not safe for you here, Dawn.” he managed to say, fairly calmly and threw the car into gear, sending up a spray of gravel as he spun it around and headed for the Summers house. “We’ll talk about it when I get you home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander hadn’t trusted himself to speak to Dawn calmly for days. 

He sat with her now on the porch swing of her house, three days after she gone to the apartment. What had angered him the most was that Dawn knew she wasn’t supposed to go to their apartment, but she’d had an argument with Buffy over something - a sweater she’d borrowed and ruined or something equally stupid - and had wanted Spike to make her feel better. Admittedly, Spike could always be counted on for colorful Buffy insults, which made Dawn laugh, but still…

Spike had told him he’d taken care of it, but Xander wanted to be sure. Both Buffy and Joyce had called to apologize, and Dawn had called practically non-stop, leaving tearful, apologetic messages, promising never to do that again, which Xander, who’d deliberately not answered the phone, had listened to with a grim face. He believed her, he just wasn’t sure she really understood.

Granted, the combination of Spike throwing a blanket over himself and hustling her out of the apartment immediately, not even waiting to call someone to come and get her, just dragging her down to the deSoto with its blacked out windows and driving her home, and the burns he’d gotten from the sun doing that, had been enough to rattle Dawn completely. 

Once they were safely inside Joyce’s house, Spike had explained to her exactly why it was so dangerous for both her and Xander to have a human visiting them in their apartment. From Spike’s description, Dawn had been in tears, trying desperately to soothe the blistered skin on Spike’s hands with a cold washcloth - which Spike had born patiently despite the fact that it did nothing to either heal him or ease the pain, and she had promised she would never come over to the apartment again, that she would call Xander’s cell phone if she needed to get ahold of them during the day.

Now that he was sure he could talk to her without yelling at her, Xander had gone to the house and quietly asked if he could talk to Dawn alone. Joyce had sent Dawn out to the porch to talk to him, although Xander was sure she was listening from inside the living room. Which was fine.

Dawn had come out hesitantly and Xander wished he hadn’t waited so long, because Dawn was obviously feeling guilty and a little scared and probably a little resentful that he hadn’t returned any of her calls. She sat down stiffly on the old couch on the porch, hands clasped tightly, and Xander quietly handed her a slip of paper. She glanced at it. 

“What’s that?”

“It’s the number for Spike’s cell phone,” he told her calmly. “You’re the only one but me that has it now. Spike asked me to give it to you.”

Dawn’s tense posture eased and she took the piece of paper with hands that trembled slightly. “Why are you giving it to me?”

“Because Spike wants you to have it. Don’t use it at night but you can call him anytime during the day. If you need to see him, Spike can get here through the tunnels. There’s an entrance less than half a block from here and a lot of trees on this block.”

At the oblique reminder that Spike had gotten burned bringing her home, tears welled up in Dawn’s eyes. 

“Ahh, honey,” Xander took her in his arms, stroking her hair and whispering in her ear that they both forgave her. “But Dawn, you need to understand that you are the reason Spike got hurt. I know you didn’t mean to, but you did. I was really angry with you, that’s why it took me so long to come see you. I know you love Spike and wouldn’t hurt him for the world, but both he and Buffy have responsibilities and problems that you and I don’t have. And we always have to remember that.”

“But you live with Spike,” Dawn had sniffed, not quite willing to let it go and Xander thought that he’d probably made a tactical error mentioning Buffy. Dawn was going through a phase where she absolutely refused to admit that Buffy’s role as the Slayer was any big deal.

“Because the vampires accept that I’m Spike’s property.” he explained patiently, knowing she needed to understand this more than superficially. “I’m the only human who can safely be upstairs without the vampires wondering if Spike’s gone soft or is betraying them in some way.” He remembered guiltily when he’d invited Giles over for the Watcher’s one and only visit to the apartment a few weeks after they’d moved in. He hadn’t really known himself then how much of a problem he was creating for Spike by doing that. Fortunately, at the time there had only been a handful of vampires in the Court. 

“Even worse, if the vampires get your scent, they can find you around town. Someone Spike cares about can be used as a hostage against him to make him do things he doesn’t want to.” Dawn looked less than impressed and Xander held her shoulders lightly, staring intently at her as he explained.

“I’m Spike’s Claimed Human, Dawn. A vampire is going to think long and hard before touching me, because they know that Spike will kill them” - big understatement there, but hey, Dawn was only fourteen so he was giving her the G-rated version - “you don’t have that protection.”

“But Dracula threatened you.”

Xander froze. He hadn’t been aware that Dawn knew anything about what had happened with Dracula. “Yes, he did,” he said carefully, “but even Dracula didn’t dare hurt me without making sure who had Claimed me. And Spike killed him for threatening me.”

“Yeah, Buffy was really mad about that.” Dawn managed a watery smile, which Xander returned, remembering how furious Buffy had been that Spike had stolen her trophy kill.

“Just remember, Dawn, vampires have a really good sense of smell. And hearing. If you were in the apartment for any length of time, some of them would hear your heartbeat and be able to recognize your smell. Then they would start to ask questions. Spike can take any of them on one at a time, and even two or three at a time, but if thirty of them stormed the apartment, Spike would probably be killed. Especially if he was trying to protect you before defending himself.”

Dawn looked at him wide-eyed and Xander wondered if he was going to have Joyce on the front porch at any moment, telling him he’d gone too far.

“You and I have a big responsibility, Dawn. We have to think before putting ourselves in danger because Spike won’t think before rescuing us. If Spike had been thinking about anything other than getting you out of the apartment as fast as he could, he would have called someone to come get you. I could have been there in five minutes, and so could your mom, Giles and Buffy. Spike was so worried about you being in danger that he just ran out into the sun.”

“I know. I’m really sorry.”

Xander hugged her tighter. “I know you are, Dawn. And I know you won’t do it again. Just remember, you are one of the very few people in this world that Spike loves. And Spike will do anything for the people he loves. So you and I have to remember that before we do something stupid.”

“Mom too.” Dawn looked at him. “He loves mom, too.”

“Well, yeah, but she doesn’t usually do anything more dangerous than going out on dates.”

Dawn managed a half-hearted giggle at that and Xander threw an arm around her, pleased when she put her head on his shoulder, leaning against him. “Is it hard, being with Spike?” she asked after a long time.

“There’s some things I wish we could do: afternoons at the beach, that kind of thing, but no, it’s not hard. Spike’s worth it.”

Dawn didn’t say anything else for a long time, and Xander kept his eyes on the front lawn, remembering the summer he’d met Dawn. It had been the summer that Buffy ran away. Dawn had caught him when he’d come over to do yard work for Buffy’s mother while she was at work. He could still see her, all coltish limbs and long hair, a skinny, not quite 12-year old, arms crossed, telling him she was going to call the police on him because he was obviously some kind of weirdo, breaking into their shed just to do their yard work. He hadn’t even known Buffy had a kid sister before then. 

After that first meeting, he’d seen her several times over the summer. Unlike her mother, who when she found him in the yard, would simply pull on a pair of gloves and go to work beside him in comfortable silence, Dawn would sit on the porch steps and watch him work, talking to him non-stop. Hearing her complain about Buffy and rattle on about movies and books, he’d let her voice wash over him, filling that part of him that had been aching for the loss of Willow’s prattling voice in his life. 

Dawn had become the kid sister he’d never had and he knew the same fear as Spike that something would happen to her, that she would become another victim of the Hellmouth.  
Both of them were determined not to let that happen. If that meant that Dawn had to grow up a little faster than she might otherwise, well, at least she would live to grow up.


	5. Chapter 5

“Xander, can I borrow you for a while this afternoon?” 

“Of course, Giles. What’s up?” 

“You know that I’ve been looking for a suitable place for Buffy to train?”

“Yeah.” Xander took a quick bite off his sandwich and hoped the chewing wasn’t audible over the phone. Giles had caught him on his lunch hour.

“I may have found one and I’d like your opinion on whether the modification I’d like to make are feasible.”

Xander smiled, pleased that Giles thought well enough of his skills to ask his opinion. He swallowed quickly and cleared his throat. “I can probably handle that. Where’s it located?”

Giles read off an address and Xander blinked. “That’s right downtown.”

“Yes, it’s the Magic Shoppe. The owner has put the business up for sale,” Giles told him casually.

“Ummm, Giles? There’s a reason that store goes up for sale on practically an annual basis.” 

“Yes, I know,” Giles said calmly, “but there’s also a reason it’s bought regularly.”

“Contagious insanity?” Xander suggested.

“Unusually high profit margins,” Giles responded crisply.

Xander was sticking with his own theory. “Aren’t the British supposed to be above that sort of crass commercialism?”

“Yes, but it’s not actually true,” Giles explained and Xander could hear the smile in his voice. “We just pretend that we are so no one thinks we’re American.”

“Yeah, ‘cause the accent doesn’t give it away or anything. The old owner is still alive, right?” he asked, checking.

“Of course, but he apparently had one too many close calls last week, so the price is quite reasonable.”

“Why the sudden yen for retail?”

“It’s a very promising space,” Giles told him and Xander began to worry that Giles was actually serious about this.

“This is such a bad idea,” Xander predicted gloomily but Giles was adamant. Xander arranged to meet him at the shop after work and tucked the phone back in his pocket, wondering why on earth Giles was even considering buying the most dangerous business in town. 

He’d only been in the magic shop once and at the time, he’d been more worried about being caught burglarizing the place and whether Ethan was going to hold up his end of the bargain than examining the store, but he remembered vaguely that the back room where Ethan had done the spell had been a large one. Cleaned up, it might in fact make a good training space. He really hoped Giles knew what he was doing. 

Sighing, he glanced at his watch and saw he still had 15 minutes left on his lunch break. Maybe he could find a structural flaw in the building, he thought hopefully. Or make one up. 

Cheered by that idea, he polished off the last of his soda and got to his feet. Better to get back to work than sit here worrying about what a colossal fiasco this was sure to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander scowled impartially around the room, which had persistently refused to cooperate. No dry rot, no termites, no code violations, no sign the original contractors had skimped on materials or done shoddy workmanship. The building was annoyingly well-built.

“Much as I hate to say it, there’s some solid craftsmanship in this building.” He thumped his fist against the wall. “It’ll take pretty much anything you can throw at it.”

Giles looked pleased. “That’s wonderful, Xander.”

“Of course,” he kept going, overriding Giles, who persisted in remaining in his happy place, “you’d have to expect that, given that four previous owners have been killed” - he’d gotten that from the realtor, for god’s sake, something about having to disclose deaths on the premises to prospective buyers - “and the shop’s been trashed at least a couple of times in the past few years.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that.” Giles didn’t sound worried. He didn’t even look up from the ledger he was flipping through. Worse, he had his patient look on. The one that said he was just humoring Xander’s objections. 

“He’s right, Giles,” Buffy said. Giles had asked her to meet him at the shop as well. “Most magic shop owners in Sunnydale have the life expectancy of a Spinal Tap drummer. Not to mention, what do you know about running a business?”

“I was a librarian for years,” Giles said airily. “This is exactly the same, except people pay for the things they never return. The shop will increase my resources. And it will prevent you lot from trampling all over my flat at all hours.” 

Xander exchanged a helpless look with Buffy, who just shook her head. There was no way they were talking Giles out of this. Maybe Spike would agree to put the place under his protection. And Buffy could add downtown to her patrol route.

This was so going to be a disaster.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Something’s wrong.”

Spike stopped just outside the door of the Magic Shoppe and his fingers slipped around Xander’s wrist in warning. Xander immediately stopped and waited silently as Spike tried to understand what he had sensed. 

The three of them were meeting Giles at the shop, as Buffy and he had several times before, helping him get the place ready for business. Spike had come along this time, now that Giles had officially bought the place, wanting to check it out himself. Xander and his former employees were helping Giles make the physical changes he wanted and he’d asked for Spike’s opinion on sealing the basement against unwanted intrusions. Spike had grumbled for form’s sake but Xander knew that Spike had been pleased to be asked. 

“What do you mean?” Buffy demanded, surveying the nearly deserted street and closed businesses around them. “Everything’s quiet.”

Spike inhaled, then shrugged. “Might be nothing,” he admitted. “Could just be sewer problems or summat.” He didn’t look completely convinced but made no attempt to prevent Buffy from entering the shop.

Buffy froze in the doorway for one second, then threw the door open and darted inside.

“Giles! Are you ok?”

Xander would have been a step behind her but Spike held him back, his eyes swiftly surveying the store from the entranceway. Xander peered worriedly over his shoulder and saw Buffy on her knees beside Giles, helping him to sit up amid a cluster of crushed cardboard boxes.

Giles’ attacker was obviously long gone and Spike’s tense alertness relaxed. Xander tugged free and joined Buffy beside Giles.

“I feel like a complete idiot but, other than that, I’m fine,” Giles told them. “The demon was not particularly interested in me until I was foolish enough to take a swing at it.”

“Well far be it from me to say I told you so to a man who is still on the floor…” Buffy began, half exasperated, half worried.

“Oh, go ahead and say it, it’s well earned.”

Buffy’s head snapped around and she glared. Spike, having decided there was no danger, was poking around curiously among the open boxes lined up against the far wall and just smirked in response to the sarcastic comment from the open front door.

Ethan Rayne stepped fully into the shop. “I must say, Ripper, your choices continue to be spot on,” he remarked, strolling across the floor to join them after a wary glance in Spike’s direction. “You purchase a magic shop on the Hellmouth. A shop, I might add, for which the owner’s life expectancy, based on previous track records, is measured in months, if not weeks. Is it a surprise that you’ve been attacked before you’ve even opened the doors for business?” Despite the dry, sarcastic tone, Ethan’s eyes were worried as he held out a hand to help Giles to his feet. 

“Well, I'm not dead or unconscious, so I say bravo for me,” Giles answered, accepting the help and steadying himself against the counter once he was back on his feet. Buffy stood with him, watching him anxiously.

“That’s the good old Blitz spirit,” Ethan retorted scathingly. “Why move to the safety of the countryside when you can paint a target on your back and stay at ground zero?”

“If Sunnydale’s too dangerous for you, Ethan, no one’s making you stay,” Giles pointed out, staring at the other man with an unreadable expression.

For one moment, something that looked like hurt flickered in Ethan’s eyes, then he spun around and stalked out of the building with a snarl.

“Harsh, Giles,” Xander said mildly. “I think he’s actually worried about you. And he’s not the only one who thinks buying the magic shop may not have been your best move.” He held his hands up in a peace-making gesture when Giles transferred his stare to him. “I know you have your reasons but you’ll have to forgive us if we can’t resist an I told you so.”

“Never mind that, what did this to you?” Only concern for Giles could have distracted Buffy from commenting on Ethan Rayne’s presence. Xander heard the beginning of the description of the demon but then slipped out the door after Ethan, signaling to Spike that he’d be back in a minute. 

He wasn’t surprised to find that Ethan hadn’t gone far. He was leaning against a lamppost a short distance down the block. From the tension in his stance, Xander suspected he wasn’t kicking it only because he was aware that would hurt his foot. He strolled down to join Ethan, who gave him a sharp glance but didn’t leave.

“How did you know Giles was hurt?”

Ethan’s shoulders tightened for an instant, but almost immediately relaxed again. “What makes you think I knew anything of the kind? My arrival just now was strictly coincidence.” Ethan’s face was the picture of innocence, which automatically made Xander think he was lying. 

“Yeah, right.” Xander could do sarcasm to. “Not really buying that. So, I’m asking, and if I don’t like your answer, Spike is going to be asking.”

“Master Spike and I have an agreement,” Ethan said confidently. “He won’t go back on his word.”

“You’re forgetting, I was there. Spike promised not to kill you, and to put the word out that you were under his protection. Nothing was said about Spike not hurting you.” Xander gave him a flat stare. Ethan wasn’t trustworthy and he had no compunctions about keeping to the exact letter of their deal and not one inch more.

“It was clearly implied by the terms,” Ethan insisted, looking slightly alarmed. 

“Probably should have spelled it out, then. I don’t think we’re bound to implied agreements, just actual ones.”

Ethan cleared his throat. “It’s possible that there may be a minor tracking spell on Ripper. Just enough to tell me his location and general state of health, I promise.”

Surprisingly, Xander found he believed Ethan. It was obvious that he cared about Giles, even if Giles wasn’t reciprocating - yet. And a tracking spell seemed like the kind of thing Ethan would do.

“Ok.” He turned to go back into the Magic shop. 

“Aren’t you going to insist that I remove the spell?” Ethan asked, head tilted curiously.

Xander gave him a feral smile. “Of course not. However, there is the possibility that I might mention it to Giles if you don’t behave.”

He savored the memory of the appalled look on Ethan’s face, as he rejoined the others inside the store.

~~~~~~~~~

“Toth!” Giles exclaimed. “That’s the demon who attacked me.” His finger skimmed down the page as he read off the highlights: “Ancient demon. Very strong. Last survivor of the Tothric clan. It also says that for a demon he’s unusually sophisticated.”

Buffy frowned, putting down her own book thankfully. “Sophisticated? So I should discuss men’s fashions with him before I chop his head off?”

Giles threw her an exasperated look. “They are referring to the fact that he does not fight barehanded. He uses tools,” he made a gesture trying to illustrate something or other, “devices.” 

Spike snorted. “That’s not sophisticated, that’s common sense. Need to stop relying on books that view demons as less intelligent than your average chimpanzee, Watcher.” Spike had refused to help research, but Xander wasn’t complaining. Spike had settled down on the step above him and had been massaging his shoulders while he read. Which made it hard to concentrate of looking for demons that matched Giles’ description but had felt really good.

“I admit, some of these medieval monks had a somewhat prejudiced view of demons,” Giles began. Spike interrupted him.

“‘Somewhat’? Wasn’t it Aelfric that said that Hai-nyrrii Shapeshifters were nothing more than clever animals?” he asked scathingly. “‘Course, have to appreciate the way the Clan leader took the time to publicly insult him in three languages before killing him.” He smirked. Spike had always enjoyed a good revenge.

Giles winced, looking vaguely nauseated and Xander made a mental note not to ask about the details of that particular incident. It took a lot to make Giles look sick.

“Can we get back to Toth?” Buffy suggested.

“Right, sorry.” Giles returned to the book. “In this case, ‘sophisticated’ apparently means he is capable of working magic.” His finger skimmed down the text rapidly, looking for other material information. “He’s also supposed to be very focused.” He looked up, gazing at Buffy. “Since he mentioned the Slayer, I think we know what that focus is.”

“Great. Where do I find this guy, so I can teach him to shop somewhere else?” Buffy asked.

Xander could tell Spike was rolling his eyes, even without turning his head. Spike had always thought that Buffy’s death threats needed work. Giles kept reading.

“There’s no mention of the types of places he might frequent..,” he closed the book and smiled grimly, “but I have an idea. He had a very specific olfactory presence.”

“Meaning?”

“He smelled like he’d been nesting in garbage.” Giles said succinctly, abandoning the big words in favor of actually communicating.

“There, you see? No demon with any claim to sophistication hangs out at the city dump,” Spike said triumphantly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Xander, can you and Spike come to the magic shop right away?” Giles sounded urgent. “I’m sorry to bother you but we have a demon problem and Buffy’s…. not herself.”

“What do you mean?” Xander sat up reluctantly on the couch, sliding down a little, away from Spike’s distracting hands. 

They’d left the shop several hours ago and Spike had decided the Court could take care of itself for the night. They didn’t have that many nights to spend together and he had been seriously annoyed when the phone rang, interrupting them. He’d lost the brief argument about whether to even answer the phone when Xander checked the caller ID and seen it was Giles. 

Buffy had said she would check back with him after she’d killed Toth. She’d turned down Spike and Xander’s offer to help, pointing out that Giles’ books hadn’t said anything about Toth being a good fighter, just strong. She was still bristling defensively about the line between her’s and Spike’s roles in Sunnydale and Xander hoped killing Toth would make up for Spike’s killing Dracula, which he suspected was the real reason Buffy had turned down their help tonight. Not that she wasn’t capable of handling most demons on her own, but he didn’t like the fact that this one surviving demon had been noteworthy enough to rate inclusion in one of the demonic encyclopedias. Buffy had been confident and Giles not particularly worried, so he hadn’t argued. 

“It’s… rather hard to explain on the telephone.” Giles sounded both worried and flustered. Something more than the usual demon of the week was bothering him and Xander starting to feel a curl of unease. “I could really use both your’s and Spike’s help.”

Xander glanced across at Spike, who had his head tilted in a way that said he’d been listening to Giles’ end of the conversation. He nodded in agreement and Xander told Giles: “We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

He hung up the phone and gave Spike an apologetic kiss.

“Could have told him we’d be there in half an hour,” Spike groused, even as he headed into the bedroom for clothes. “Would have let us finish what we started.”

“Next time I’ll listen to you and not answer the phone,” Xander promised with a grin, wondering if their ten minutes gave him time for a cold shower.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The magic shop looked deserted but the door wasn’t locked. Xander pushed it open and stepped inside. “Hello? Giles?”

They’d straightened up from Toth’s visit and the previously scattered boxes were neatly stacked against the walls again, but other than that the shop appeared empty. Xander moved further into the shop, just as the door to the back room opened and Buffy appeared. Her eyes darted quickly around the room and fastened immediately on Spike.

“Vampire!” she hissed, the word sounding like an accusation.

Xander stared at her in surprise. She was practically radiating hostility. “Buffy? What’s going on?” 

Buffy looked different somehow: she’d pulled her hair back in a tight, braided ponytail, she wasn’t wearing any makeup or jewelry, and she’d changed into plain, dark workout clothes, the ones she’d taken to keeping in the back room of the shop in the last week. And she was glaring at Spike like he was an enemy.

He looked at Spike in confusion and saw that Spike had shifted to vampire features and was glaring back at Buffy, his whole body tense and fighting-ready. “Spike?”

“Slayer.” Spike’s low-voiced exclamation was as much an acknowledgement of a sworn enemy as Buffy’s had been.

“Guys, chill.” 

Buffy entered the room with the light, wary tread of a born predator, her eyes scanning the space for threats and automatically taking in every detail that might be used against her or by her in a fight. It was the exact thing that Spike habitually did upon entering any room, no matter how relaxed or comfortable he was, a survival instinct so ingrained that it never left him. He’d never seen Buffy do that before. 

He looked back and forth between the two of them. Even when he’d forced them both to agree to a truce, they’d never displayed this level of hostility. Dislike, yes, and a lot of antagonism, but never this kind of sheer blind hatred. Whatever was going on, they were clearly feeding off each other’s responses. Something was bringing out the instinctive hatred of vampire and Slayer and Xander was beginning to wish he’d asked a lot more questions about what was wrong before coming over here.

“Xander, Spike, thank heavens you’re here.”

Spike never took his eyes off Buffy, Xander noticed uneasily as Giles appeared in the doorway behind Buffy and slipped past her into the main shop. Buffy didn’t relax either. If anything, her tension ratcheted up another notch and she shifted position, moving to keep herself between Giles and the two of them.

Not them, Xander realized, seeing how her eyes never wavered from Spike. She was keeping herself between Spike and Giles.

“What’s going on?” he asked Giles, shifting slightly so that he was between Spike and Buffy, then moving back a step or two, forcing Spike to move with him. The tension in the room had only heightened with the addition of Giles and Xander felt like he was walking on eggshells, praying nothing would spark the atmosphere into explosion.

A third person stepped into view from the back room, then hesitated in the doorway, clearly unsure about entering. Xander flicked a wary glance in their direction and saw that it was Buffy.

What the hell?

His eyes swung back and forth between the two figures, but they were both clearly Buffy.  
“What the hell?”

“As I said, we have a rather serious problem.”

Giles really was the master of understatement.


	6. Chapter 6

“So, they’re both Buffy?” Xander asked incredulously.

Giles had wielded his authority as Watcher in a way he rarely did, ordering Buffy 1 to stand down and return to the back room. To Xander’s surprise, she obeyed the order without any argument. She simply turned and headed into the back room and had moved immediately to the far corner. Xander was uneasily aware that Giles had temporarily stored a number of weapons in that area, intended for training and emergencies, but so far she’d been content to pace restlessly, keeping a wary eye on Spike. 

Buffy 2 had muttered something that Xander hadn’t quite caught but Giles simply fixed her with a stern look and she meekly followed Buffy 1 into the back room, the rest of them trailing behind the two. 

“How did this happen?”

“Toth,” Buffy 1 reported crisply. “He had a weapon of some kind. The weapon did this to me.” 

“To me,” Buffy 2 said under her breath. Giles winced, his gaze avoiding both women as he cleared his throat noisily. 

“My first thought was that the weapon was some sort of shape-shifting device, that Toth was imitating Buffy somehow. But according to, er… Buffy,” he gestured towards Buffy 1. Xander suspected Giles had had time to get over the weird fascination that was keeping his own eyes bouncing back and forth between the two women, unable to stop comparing the differences. “However, Toth was still present after the weapon discharged which made that unlikely. I have been doing some research into what the weapon Toth was carrying was and it appears definite that the two of them are both Buffy.”

Although it was obvious that Giles had already explained this to the two Buffies, they exchanged looks full of mutual dislike and rejection for the whole notion that they were somehow connected. Granted, suddenly having a double would be enough to freak anyone out, but their reaction seemed like more than that.

Buffy 2 was physically the Buffy Xander had always known. She was wearing a brightly striped halter top and the red leather pants she’d been favoring recently. Her blond hair was loose, the way she usually wore it, and large silver hoops gleamed in her ears when she turned her head. She seemed almost as wary of Buffy 1 as Spike was, staying close to Giles, her glance continually skittering in the direction of her double. 

Spike was having a similar reaction to Buffy 1. He was leaning against the wall, his whole pose one of careless relaxation, if you didn’t know him well enough to see the tension in his muscles and the way his eyes never left Buffy 1. Xander was curious to see that he was utterly ignoring Buffy 2 in a way he’d never seen Spike ignore Buffy - original, single Buffy, that is. Even when they’d first met, when Spike hadn’t had much respect for Buffy’s fighting skills, he’d never completely disregarded her presence like he was doing now with Buffy 2.

“Umm…no offense, but why aren’t you two the same?” Xander asked. Both Buffys looked at him and he added hastily: “You know, different clothes, and stuff…” he finished lamely. 

Buffy 1 sneered. “Her clothes are completely impractical for hunting demons. I changed as soon as we got back here.”

“Into my workout clothes,” Buffy 2 muttered, glaring at her double. “I’ve patrolled in these clothes a dozen times, they work fine. And you can go out afterwards without having to change.”

Fortunately, Giles interrupted, cutting off whatever it was Buffy 1 had been on the verge of saying in response - Xander didn’t think he was up to listening to Buffy argue with herself. Giles gestured to the book spread open on top of a stack of boxes. “The weapon Toth is carrying is called a ferula-gemina. It splits one person in half, distilling their personality traits into two separate bodies.”

“Come again?” Spike said, still not taking his eyes off Buffy 1. 

“The weapon is apparently designed to divide a person into their stronger and weaker halves. In this case,” he gestured to Buffy 2, “one with all the qualities inherent in Buffy Summers, and,” he swung the hand holding his glasses around to point at Buffy 1, “the other one with everything that belongs to the Slayer alone ... the strength, the speed, the heritage.”

“Other than the wackiness factor, why would he want to do that?” Xander asked. “What’s it get him other than two enemies?”

Buffy 2, Human-Buffy, smiled at him while Buffy 1, Slayer-Buffy looked disdainfully at her human half, obviously not thinking she was much of a fighter.

Giles looked grim. “Because the two halves cannot exist without each other. Kill the human Buffy half, and the Slayer half dies. And vice verse,” he added with belated tact.

“Not a bad plan.”

“Spike!”

Spike shrugged unrepentantly. “What? Not like it’s something I’d do. It’s for cowards afraid to face a Slayer. Still, if you want the kill, not too many people are going to dock you points for how you take her down.”

“So you think Toth is planning on going after the human Buffy.” Xander kept his eyes firmly on Giles, not wanting to look at Buffy 2. Now that he understood what had happened, it was almost embarrassingly easy to tell which was which and he didn’t want to hurt Human-Buffy’s feelings. 

“Which is why I will hunt him alone,” Slayer-Buffy said. “Calling Spike was a waste of time. I don’t need the help. I’m as strong as I’ve ever been.” She didn’t even try to hide her opinion that Human-Buffy had been holding her back.

“We don’t know that, and I would rather not take the chance,” Giles told her firmly. 

“What happened to Toth after he used the weapon?” Xander asked curiously, wondering why the demon hadn’t killed Human-Buffy right then. 

“The weapon only knocked me off my feet momentarily. Toth fled as soon as I was back up. I would have pursued, but I noticed her lying unconscious next to me.” She gestured towards Human-Buffy with obvious contempt for her weakness in being knocked unconscious by something as simple as being split into two different halves. 

Spike snorted disdainfully. “What did I tell you? Wants the kill but not the risk. He’s too much a coward to face the Slayer, so he’ll try and take her out through her weaknesses, not her strengths. Wanker.”

Spike obviously had no concerns about offending Human-Buffy. Slayer-Buffy had a smug smile on her face as she finished her summary. “I brought her to my Watcher to be taken care of and he refused to let me go back out on my own,” she finished resentfully.

“The weapon was some kind of stick-thingie. It shot something that looked like a ball of fire. I was only out for a second,” Human-Buffy said defensively. “It hurt like hell but it didn’t seem to do any physical damage.” She rubbed her chest as she spoke, then added: “Except for creating her.”

“Buffy - ies,” Giles said, half soothingly, half commandingly. “You are facing an enemy who is known to possess a great deal of strength while your own physical condition in this state remains uncertain. We cannot know what all the effects of the weapon are and I would rather not test that under battle conditions.”

That seemed to make sense to Slayer-Buffy and Human-Buffy looked relieved, like she was willing to fight if she had to but hadn’t been looking forward to it.

“So, you want me to kill your demon, eh?” Spike summed up, looking almost unbearably smug. “No trouble, Watcher, ladies,” he swept them a mocking bow and both Buffies bristled and scowled at him, looking remarkably alike for one moment. “I’ll take care of the big bad wolf while you hide out here and do your nails.”

“I vote no,” Xander said firmly, raising a hand.

Well, at least it got everyone’s attention.

~~~~~~

“Xander…,” Spike began warningly. He was not going to agree to take the Slayer with him. She was setting his nerves on edge with her mere presence and he wouldn’t trust her to back him in a fight - she was too close to pure demon in this form, a predator controlled only by her instincts and her instincts were to kill vampires. He wasn’t betting his unlife on her ability to rein herself in and not stake him the moment his back was turned.

“No!” Xander repeated insistently, glaring at him. “You are not going up alone against something that has a weapon that can do that to you.” He gestured to the two Slayers. 

“You said it shot a ball of fire?” Xander asked them.

The human one nodded, frowning as she tried to remember. “He pointed the stick at me and the end glowed and then, whoosh, it felt like I’d been kicked in the chest.”

“So, almost instantaneous?” Xander pressed.

The two Slayers exchanged glances and both nodded. “Not quite instantaneous, but as fast as if it had been a bullet,” the pure Slayer answered judiciously.

Xander gave him a hard stare. “That thing isn’t a gun, where you get cranky if the bullet hits you. It’s something magical. If you don’t duck in time, suddenly there’s two of you.”

Xander had a point, though Spike didn’t want to admit it in front of the Slayer. It didn’t take a lot of imagination to figure out that the weapon would split him into demon and human bits. He didn’t have any fond nostalgia for his original human self, considering what a nancy boy fop he’d been. The last thing he needed was a physical reminder of his human life hanging about. 

“Could be fun, luv,” was all he said, lifting his scarred eyebrow with a suggestive leer.

“Oh, hell no. I can’t keep up with one of you, much less two,” Xander muttered, making a face. 

Spike just laughed. He had no intention of sharing Xander with anyone, much less his hypothetical, not-going-to-happen, double, but it was always fun to get a rise out of his boy.

“How do we fix them?” Xander asked the Watcher.

“I’m not broken,” both Buffies snapped at the same moment, then shot each other identical uncomfortable looks.

“Sorry, put you back together.”

Giles looked embarrassed. “I’m not sure yet. It’s been a trifle hard to concentrate.”

“So, how about we figure it out before someone else gets hit with this weapon?” Xander suggested pointedly.

Spike grinned at the look on the Watcher’s face. His boy did have a way of cutting to the heart of things. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Putting them back together turned out to be surprisingly simple. The Watcher found the answer in one of his books and made a phone call to the witch who’d helped with the spell to take down Adam. She’d agreed to come over and do whatever it was they needed - although Rupert could work mojo in a pinch, he preferred to leave it to others. He’d long since admitted that he felt he’d tainted his own natural magic with his youthful indiscretions and only worked magic when there was no other choice. The shy blonde - Tara something - didn’t have that problem. Unlike the redhead, safely back in England again, the blonde was cautious with her power and only used it when necessary. Painfully shy and almost non-verbal at times, she came into her own when actually doing spells, displaying a quiet confidence in her magic that she showed at no other time. Much as he disliked magic in general and the redhead in particular, Spike had found it impossible to hate this one, despite the relationship she and the Witch had been developing since they met last spring.

“So, Glinda will be here in about 20 minutes?” he confirmed. Xander threw him a quick, delighted smile at the nickname and the Watcher nodded. 

“Yes, she’s going to gather up a few supplies before coming over.” He gestured at the chaos of boxes around them. “I suspect I have everything we need here, but it would take too long to find it.”

Spike eyed the Slayer thoughtfully and decided he could afford to indulge himself. “Fancy a set to?” he asked casually. She studied him warily for a moment before giving him a curt nod, but Spike didn’t miss the gleam in her eyes. Oh yeah, this one wanted to see what she could do without her human side messing with her reflexes.

Xander’s brows swooped down and he frowned at both of them. Spike gave him a reassuring smile. “Just a bit of sparring to pass the time,” he said airily, despite the fact that he knew that Xander could read the predatory smile on his face. 

“Right.” Spike lifted an eyebrow at the heavy sarcasm but Xander wasn’t finished. “Either of you kills the other, and someone isn’t getting any tonight,” he finished, quietly enough that neither of the other humans in the room heard him. 

“Promise, luv,” Spike told him. Xander met first his eyes and then the Slayer’s with a pointed stare and Spike was amused to see her give his boy a nod, accepting the limits he was setting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was good. Ducking a swing and bouncing back up, Spike was intrigued by the differences in her fighting style. Smoothly perfect, flowing easily from one move to another, none of the annoying chatter and jokes he was used to, just grim, deadly silence. He spun and snapped a kick at her and she dodged with a lightning fast move that he hadn’t anticipated, letting his kick sweep past her, then darting back in with a punch to his kidney that he only avoided by vaulting over a pile of boxes that swayed dangerously under the impetus of his body. 

“Careful of the boxes!” the Watcher called sharply and Spike laughed, giving up the notion of throwing the top one, helpfully labeled ‘miscellaneous charms’, at the Slayer. Rupert was studying the fight intensely, obviously as interested in the Slayer’s fighting style as Spike was. He was curious whether the Watcher was drawing the same conclusions that he was from her mechanically perfect moves.

The human side of her must be where she got the flair for improvisation that was so much a part of her fighting style. She was one of the best he’d ever seen at getting herself out of trouble in a fight, using everything around her to her advantage. He’d seen her stake vampires with broken bits of fence, a yard sign, and a discarded pencil she’d snatched up while tumbling ungracefully across a floor. This version of her wouldn’t get into that kind of trouble but he doubted she’d be as good at getting herself out. 

It wasn’t anything near an all-out fight, the space was too small and the room too crowded with boxes they were both being careful not to smash out of deference to the Watcher. Still, neither were pulling their punches and she’d nearly snapped his neck when she’d flipped back to her feet after he’d thrown her to the ground, adding a double-footed kick to his jaw to the move. He was going to add that move to his own repertoire, it was both stylish and effective.

‘Course, the Slayer would be favoring her ribs for a day or two, and if she walked away from this without a limp, it would be through stubborn pride alone, he thought with satisfaction, even as he blocked a punch to his gut, and spun away from the kick that followed a breath behind it. She was getting predictable, he thought with satisfaction. Another patterned series of blows like that one and he would take her down. He bounced on his toes and waited for it.

“Enough.”

The Watcher’s voice was calm but it sliced through the room with clear command and Spike and the Slayer exchanged glances. She nodded stiffly and they both reluctantly stood down, backing away from each other and ending the “sparring session”. 

Looking away from the Slayer for the first time, he saw Glinda standing frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide with surprise and concern, which faded into relief as she saw them break off. Spike had been concentrating so hard that he hadn’t heard her enter, but then he’d known Xander was there and would warn him of any imminent danger. He’d been free to focus completely on the Slayer. The human Buffy was watching her Slayer half, eyes unreadable, but Spike’s gaze slid over her indifferently to land on his boy. Xander smiled at him and Spike basked in the pride showing in his Claimed’s eyes. Xander could obviously tell he’d been gaining the upper hand when the Watcher called a halt, he thought, pleased.

“Tara, thank you for coming.”

“Of, of course, Mr. Giles.” Now that the fight was over, Glinda’s eyes were bouncing back and forth between the two Slayers. Like Xander, she seemed fascinated by the differences and unable to stop staring at them. The Slayer gave her a hard look and she blushed, dropping her eyes.

“We’re really grateful, Tara,” Buffy said warmly, frowning sternly at her double. The witch shot her a fleeting smile, then busied herself setting out the supplies she’d brought: candles, chalk, and packets of some kind of herb.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The spell took longer to set up than to perform. Spike watched warily from the corner, Xander clasped firmly in his arms, as the Watcher carefully drew a pentagram on the floor and placed candles at the points of the star. Glinda directed the pure Slayer to change back into the same clothes the human half was wearing, explaining that the fewer differences between them, the easier breaking the spell would be. Spike was amused by the look of distaste of the Slayer’s face as she picked up the discarded batch of fashionable clothes. The witch “cleansed” the room with a bundle of something spicy that made Xander sneeze, then placed the two, now identically dressed Slayers within the center of the circle. 

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Slayer-Buffy asked warily.

Tara nodded. “Your natural state is to be together. Toth’s spell is doing all the work of keeping you apart, artificially holding your original self divided into these two bodies. All we need to do is remove the spell barrier which is separating you.”

She smiled reassuringly at them and stepped back out of the circle. “Are you ready?”

The two Slayers nodded, bracing themselves. The human half closed her eyes, the Slayer kept her own fastened on the witch.

Glinda began the spell, her soft voice was the only sound in the room: “We call on the goddess to help us. These two are meant to be one. Let the dividing spell be broken and the natural course be restored.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” the Slayer said. “That isn’t going to work.”

She opened her eyes and saw the circle of amused, relieved smiles. “Or maybe it will,” she admitted with a broad smile as she saw that she was alone in the circle. She stepped forward and gave the startled witch a hug. “Thank you. I really owe you.”

Glinda stammered and blushed, all her confidence deserting her now that the magic bit was done and the Slayer stepped back, her gaze swinging around to meet Spike’s.

“Shall we go find Toth?”

Spike stood, a little surprised by the offer. “Sure, Slayer.”

“I’ll wait for you here,” Xander told him. “Giles, can Tara and I help unpack some of these boxes for you?”

The shop door closed behind them on the cheerful sound of Xander’s voice, joking with Rupert and gently coaxing Glinda to talk. He and the Slayer had covered a block in silence when she said hesitantly but like she’d made up her mind about something:

“Spike, would you be willing to call me ‘Buffy’?”

He supposed he could do that.


	7. Chapter 7

Like he’d suspected, Toth had barely been worth the effort. The only reason Spike had gone after him with the Slayer was because she’d surprised him with the invitation to join her. Not like he was going to turn down an offer of a fight just because it might prove disappointing. 

Toth had managed to fire two shots with his weapon before being disarmed, but both the Slayer and he had dodged the shots easily, so easily that Spike was a bit surprised that the Slayer had been hit at all during her first go-round with Toth. Granted, the weapon didn’t look like anything more threatening than a hollow tree branch and Buffy was more used to being hit with sticks than having them shoot balls of spell-fire at her, but still, she should have been more on guard. Not like her Watcher hadn’t told her Toth carried sophisticated weapons, which should have warned her that Toth’s stick was more than it appeared. 

Spike dove to the side as Toth fired the weapon at him. The fireball chewed up the grass several feet behind him even as he rolled back to his feet in one swift motion and came at Toth from behind as the demon swung the weapon around to line it up on Buffy. She threw herself into a tumbling roll and kept moving and Toth forgot about Spike for a moment too long as he tried to make sure of his shot on the quickly moving Slayer. 

Spike timed his move carefully, waiting until Toth fired before hitting him from behind, one hand grabbing for the weapon in the same instant that he launched a savage kick at Toth’s knee. As he hoped, the big demon staggered from the unexpected blow, and Spike had been able to wrench the weapon from his hand and send it spinning across the clearing and into the bushes on the far side.

Once the weapon was gone, the fight had been boringly routine. Toth had proved to be a complete disappointment. Granted, he was as strong as the Watcher’s book said, the one blow he’d landed had thrown Spike ten feet across the clearing, but Toth had been slow and unimaginative as a fighter. Having enemies coming at him from two directions had seemed to confuse Toth and, as he and the Slayer took turns pummeling the demon, Spike thought scornfully that, if Toth was typical for his species, then he understood why Toth was the last survivor of his clan. The wonder was that Toth himself had survived as long as he had.

Really, Toth reminded him of nothing so much as Trick and his ridiculous Slayerfest a couple years back. Oh, mostly he’d objected to Slayerfest because it was unbelievably conspicuous, but he’d shut it down in part because that just wasn’t the way you hunted a Slayer. Slayers - at least ones who’d survived as long as Buffy and the two he’d killed - were opponents worthy of respect and a proper fight. Spike had taken both of his Slayers in clean fights, one on one, with as much chance that they would kill him as of him succeeding. Drinking their blood had been a celebration of achievement. You didn’t shoot them from ambush, then crow over the corpse like you’d done something impressive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You were right, he wasn’t much of a fighter.” Buffy wrinkled her nose at the smell of the demon’s innards as she used a handful of Toth’s robe to carefully clean the sword she’d stabbed him with. The Slayer never did have an appreciation for the gory side of their work.

Spike shrugged, lighting up a cigarette and taking a drag before answering, his eyes scanning the area for threats but sensing nothing other than the small scavengers who always gathered following a bloody kill. “Told you. Wouldn’t have used that weapon if he’d thought he could take you without it.”

Buffy shot him an annoyed look as if mention of the weapon had just reminded her. “You could have taken that thing away before he fired at me,” she said, tone halfway to accusing.

“Thing used mojo. Figured the safest time to grab it was right after it had fired.” He smirked, sending a stream of smoke in her direction which she batted away like it was an enemy. “Not to worry, Slayer. We knew how to fix you if you were too slow.”

“Easy for you to say,” she muttered, then let it drop and looked around. “Speaking of which, where did it go?” Spotting the weapon several yards away, she began walking towards it. “Let’s take it back to Giles.”

“Plannin’ on using it at parties?” Spike asked, one eyebrow raised suggestively. “Could be fun.” He was amused by the disgusted look she threw him in return.

“You only say that because you didn’t have to deal with two yous running around.” Buffy snagged the weapon off the grass and gingerly examined it. Spike didn’t think it was a coincidence that the business end waved in his direction.

“Two of me wouldn’t be bad. Just be doubling the charisma and charm,” he said airily, as if the thought didn’t bother him at all. 

“We can put that to the test, if you like,” the Slayer offered, a gleam of malicious amusement in her eyes as she looked up at him with a smirk. “I can probably figure out how this works.”

“No sense in worrying Xander,” Spike told her, resisting the urge to scramble away from the weapon’s path in undignified haste. He’d already decided he didn’t want two versions of himself created by that thing. He casually took a couple steps sideways and saw that Buffy had let the muzzle drop back towards the grass.

“Well, if you’re sure,” she said, still grinning at him.

“Right,” Spike said firmly, changing the topic, although he was fairly sure she hadn’t been serious. “Let’s head back to the shop. Watcher can play with his new toy and I’ll take my boy home.”

Not waiting for an answer, he set off across the lawn, hearing the Slayer jog to catch up and fall in step beside him. Spike smoked his cigarette down to the butt, then flicked it away, glancing across at Buffy, curious about her unusual silence.

She was frowning to herself, lost in thought as she kept pace with him, Toth’s weapon swinging idly from one hand. Seeming to feel his eyes on her, she looked up at him. “What do you think would have happened to Xander if this had hit him?” She asked out of nowhere, lifting the weapon briefly.

“Pretty much what happened with you, I imagine,” Spike answered. “One half would have gotten the self-defense and carpentry skills, the other would have been less confident and maybe a bit clumsy.” He wasn’t sure which half would have gotten Xander’s knack for crazy plans. Maybe the successful ones would go to the stronger half and the weaker half would have been spouting some of Xander’s crazier ideas - the ones Xander himself usually figured out weren’t going to work. He shrugged indifferently. Hadn’t happened, no sense in worrying about it.

“Do you ever wish….” the Slayer trailed off without finishing but Spike knew what she was asking.

“Don’t be stupider than you have to be,” he said rudely. “You don’t just love someone for their good parts. I love all of Xander, even the parts that drive me mad. Not settling for half of him.” He gave her a withering look, knowing the question hadn’t really been about Xander. “If you’re thinking your tin soldier only wants half of you, then you two don’t have any kind of future.”

His harsh response was met with silence and Spike felt an unwilling twist of sympathy for the uncertainty in her face. Xander had had similar doubts, once upon a time, worrying that, as a human, he couldn’t keep up with Spike. Spike had long since set those doubts to rest in his Claimed. Unlike Spike, soldier boy obviously didn’t know a good thing when he saw it. Not enough to settle his own issues and insecurities enough to reassure his girlfriend.

Buffy obviously thought that soldier boy only wanted her Slayer side. Which was a laugh, given what was going on inside the soldier’s body recently. Idiot thought he could keep up with the Slayer’s demonic heritage through will power alone. Wanker.

“I just think it would be easier for Riley if I was just regular, normal Buffy,” she said quietly, almost to herself.

She thought the soldier wanted her weaker half? Spike came to a halt, looking at her in astonishment. Who’d want a weak half over a strong one? That made no sense to him at all. The idea left him absolutely speechless.

“Never mind,” Buffy said, waiving off the idea. “I’m still just a little freaked from being two people. I’m probably not going to even tell Riley about this.” She waved Toth’s weapon illustratively as she spoke and began walking in the direction of the magic shop again.

Spike shook his head, putting the whole pathetic mess of the Slayer’s relationship problems out of his thoughts. Humans. Couldn’t ever just shag and be content. Always needlessly complicating things. Demons were much more sensible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So,” Spike began smugly as they reached the door to their apartment. “Killed the demon. Didn’t kill the Slayer, just for you, pet. All’s well in Sunnyhell. Think I deserve a reward.”

Xander nodded in agreement. “Way ahead of you, Spike.” He pushed open the door, throwing a proud smile over his shoulder at Spike. “I have microwave pizzas ready to go.”

He laughed at the look on Spike’s face and darted inside the apartment, heading for the refrigerator. “What? You spent the whole walk home complaining about what a lame-ass fighter Toth was. You expected something more than pizza?” he asked, trying for injured innocence but knowing his grin was giving the game away.

Spike growled and snatched him off his feet, carrying him into the bedroom and tossing him onto the bed. Xander laughed again as Spike flung himself on top of him, perching triumphantly on top of Xander’s hips and bending down to say threateningly: “Gave up my third Slayer for you, pet. Think that’s worth more than soddin’ frozen pizza.”

Xander opened his mouth to offer him a side salad with his pizza but Spike’s mouth covered his before he could get a word out. Spike’s hands pinned his wrists to the mattress as he kissed Xander hungrily. Xander parted his lips under the onslaught and Spike’s tongue darted inside, teasing, stroking, exploring as if it were unknown territory. 

He struggled, trying to bring his hands up to pull Spike closer but Spike kept them pinned effortlessly, drawing back just enough to drawl: “Not happening, luv. Wouldn’t give me what I want, so you’ll just have to lie there while I take my reward.” He ground his hips down against Xander’s in illustration and Xander felt Spike’s erection against his own burgeoning one.

“Take away,” Xander told him, rocking his hips against Spike’s, eager for more.

Spike freed his wrists and tore Xander’s t-shirt off with one quick move, then his hands were back, fingers twining with Xander’s, holding him still as he bent down to nip and lick at the exposed skin. 

Xander closed his eyes, loving the feel of Spike’s lips and tongue and teeth exploring his body. Crouched over him, lean hips still pressing down against him, Spike was rocking slowly against him, in a rhythm that was going to drive him out of his mind soon. Spike was nibbling and tonguing his nipples now, teasing them into tight, aching peaks, lavishing attention on first one then the other until Xander was arching up into his touch, desperate for more.

“Damnit, Spike!” he managed to gasp. “More ravishing, less teasing.”

“Patience, luv. Busy here.”

Xander swore, bucking against Spike’s restraining hands, trying to bring his legs up to wrap them around Spike, but Spike shifted his weight slightly and the angle was wrong and Spike just laughed down at him. “Someone’s in a hurry.”

“Who’s fault is that?” Xander growled, bucking his hips up.

Spike rode his body easily, keeping their hips locked together, erections straining against the fabric imprisoning them as Xander bucked and twisted, trying to get more movement and pressure against his cock. Spike shifted his arms until he had both of Xander’s wrists gathered together in one hand and Xander almost sobbed with relief as Spike dropped his free hand to Xander’s waist, fingers nimbly unfastening his fly and freeing his penis.

It still amazed him how quickly Spike could bring him to the peak of arousal. Oh, they had their nights spent in hours of tender lovemaking but there was something unbelievably arousing about times like this when his yellow eyed demon lover tore his clothes off and teased him to the breaking point. 

And that’s exactly what Spike proceeded to do: long slow strokes of his cock that gradually increased in speed until Xander was gasping incoherent encouragement, head thrown back against the mattress, his whole body straining for the orgasm that Spike was driving him towards, climax building but always withheld, his hand never quite moving fast enough or hard enough for Xander to fall over the edge. 

Lost in sensation, Xander’s eyes flew open as Spike bit down without warning, renewing his Claim mark, needle-sharp fangs sliding inside him with the exquisite eroticism of the mingled pain and pleasure that was Spike’s bite. At the exact same moment, Spike tightened his grip around Xander’s cock and began pumping hard. Xander screamed hoarsely as he erupted into orgasm, his release spurting between their bodies as he thrashed and writhed in Spike’s hold, pinned beneath Spike’s body, his orgasm seeming even more intense because of his restricted movements. 

Xander came back to himself, his own breath sounding harshly in the quiet room, feeling the slight roughness of Spike’s tongue laving over the marks on his neck. Xander slid an arm around the cool body lying half on top of him, feeling languid and incredibly sated.

“Mmmm, did you…?” he remembered to ask.

Spike’s low chuckle reassured him. “Came in my jeans like a human, luv,” he said, the breath he needed for words tickling Xander’s ear. “Seeing you that way’s enough to send me over. So beautiful.”

Xander meant to say something, but Spike twined a leg firmly around him and Xander fell asleep, lulled by the soft contented purring of his vampire beside him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I talked to Riley,” Buffy said, out of nowhere, just as Xander was beginning to think it was time to pay and free up the table. “I told him what happened with Toth.” 

They’d long since finished eating and the waitress had cleared away their plates, leaving the bill behind, a hint they’d ignored as they continued talking. Buffy was leaning her head on one hand and she had a shy, pleased smile on her face that made her look startlingly beautiful: soft and gentle in a way that she rarely looked.

“I asked him if he would rather I’d stayed split, so he could have just Buffy-Buffy instead of Slayer-Buffy.” Her smile turned secretive and Xander thought Riley had probably really come through for her with his answer. He stayed quiet, eyes resting on her, enjoying the pure happiness on her face, unmarred by the responsibilities and darker thoughts that so often shadowed even her most carefree moments.

Buffy started, and seemed to remember she wasn’t alone. She shook her head. “It’s funny, I’ve spent so much time since I was called, wishing I could be normal. And yet, this is the second time that I’ve lost my Slayer powers and I hated it both times. You’d think that I would have learned by now that maybe I kind of like being the Slayer.” 

Xander smiled, remembering how upset she’d been when the Council neutralized her powers for that crazy test on her 18th birthday. “I do remember you saying something back then about how you didn’t know what you were if you weren’t the Slayer.” 

“But, I don’t want to be her either. She was…”

Buffy hesitated, maybe at a loss for words, maybe just reluctant to criticize herself and Xander filled in for her:

“Single-minded? Driven? No fun?”

Buffy smiled ruefully. “Something like that.”

“Spike thinks you’re a better fighter than she is.” He hoped Spike wouldn’t kill him for telling her that.

“Really?” She looked surprised and extraordinarily pleased.

“Says her fighting style is too mechanical. That you do unexpected things that makes you more unpredictable and harder to beat.” He smiled at her. “I’d say your Buffy side balances the Slayer physically as well as mentally.”

“That’s actually the main reason I didn’t like her much,” Buffy admitted. “She was so sure that my human side had nothing to offer.” She propped her chin on her fists and looked pensive. “So, I don’t like being just human or just the Slayer. Pretty whiney, huh?”

“A little, but you’ve got more cause than a lot of people,” Xander told her easily. “Most of us are a little more in the college or trade school range of choices, not normal versus superpowers. I mean, if I’d been the one to get split, would you even be able to tell the difference between me?” He frowned. “Me’s?” He shook his head. “Whatever.”

Buffy grinned. “Yeah, the pronouns were a bitch. But what I meant was, it kind of feels like someone or something is telling me to shut up and deal already. I mean, losing my powers once, I can put that down to the Council being evil. Twice?” She grimaced. “Someone’s trying to tell me something.”

“Twice is coincidence,” Xander said firmly. “And maybe living on the Hellmouth, which has way more than its share of evil humans and wacky demons.”

“Maybe.” Buffy didn’t sound convinced. “Even if it is coincidence, that doesn’t mean I can’t learn from it.”

“So, what have you learned, young padawan?” Buffy looked blank and Xander sighed to himself, missing Oz who understood his geek movie references without explanations. “Star Wars reference, forget it.”

Buffy gave him the look she always gave him when his sci-fi geek crossed her path but obligingly didn’t say anything. Instead, she looked pensive. “Riley and I have been trying so hard to be just Riley and Buffy, not commando and Slayer. And it’s been good,” she added hurriedly, “but a little too much like when I was trying to date people who didn’t know I was the Slayer. We’ll never get anywhere if we don’t see each other as whole people.”

“You know, I think we had this conversation a few weeks ago,” Xander couldn’t help saying.

“And I’ve had an up-close and personal look at what being nothing but the Slayer really looks like. Like I said, I don’t want to be her. And I’m sure she doesn’t want normal-guy Riley.”

Xander tilted his head, curious. “So, you’ve decided to accept that you are both of you, not just human or just the Slayer. Where does that leave you and Riley?”

“That’s where I’m kind of stuck. I mean, I want Riley to patrol with me but I don’t want him to get hurt. So I don’t want him to patrol because he’s going to get hurt one of these days. Vicious circle.”

“What does Riley want? And can you handle him patrolling with you, if that’s what he needs to be happy?”

Buffy sighed. “He wants to patrol.” She looked decidedly unhappy as she added: “He’s been patrolling without me anyway, so our whole ‘no Slayer-no commando’ trial is looking more and more stupid.”

Xander sat back and pulled out his wallet, dropping twenty dollars into the little tray and pushing it to the edge of the table. “You know, Riley’s just as worried about you getting killed as you are about him getting hurt,” he told her.

“What? That’s….” she bit off what she’d been about to say and had the grace to look embarrassed. 

Xander just looked at her, both eyebrows raised, and waited for her to put two and two together.

“Ok, point taken.”

“It really is as dangerous for you as it is for Riley.” She opened her mouth to protest and Xander held up a silencing hand. “I know you’ve got all the Slayer advantages, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be killed or hurt. It also means that a lot of things are gunning for you that aren’t interested in Riley. Trust me, it’s a big advantage that people underestimate us mere humans.” 

He stood up, thinking they’d hashed this to death already and wishing Willow was better at sympathizing with Riley’s side when she and Buffy discussed this. From her emails, Willow tended to think that Riley should sideline himself if it made Buffy happy. “Just try and remember that the most fragile thing about guys is our ego. Riley can heal from a broken bone, but keeping him out of the fight - he is not going to recover from that.”

Buffy stood up as well, frowning, and Xander threw her arm around her shoulder. “All I can say, Buffy, is that if you didn’t want to deal with the macho he-man that comes with whole guy-package, you should follow Willow’s example.”

It took a moment for Buffy to figure out his meaning and predictably, she wrinkled her nose at the thought. “No, thanks. Happy member of a dying breed here - 100% heterosexual.”

“Well, you’re certainly in the minority. Between me and Spike, Jonathan and Larry, Willow and Tara” - ok, they weren’t officially a couple but Willow talked about her an awful lot in her emails - “and Giles and Ethan, you are way outnumbered.”

Buffy looked at him in horror. “No way! Giles? And Evil Chaos Guy? You’re making that up.”

“‘Fraid not. I’m cheating because they aren’t officially a couple but it’s not through lack of effort on Ethan’s part.” He grinned down at her. “Like I said, a serious minority.”

Buffy muttered something under her breath about how she was sure she could get someone to make an exception to the no killing human rule when the human was a chaos mage and Xander laughed at her. He thought Giles was more than a match for Ethan but Buffy was obviously going to need some time to deal with the idea.


	8. Chapter 8

“This is great, Giles.” Xander looked around the now finished training room again. Even though he’d helped set it up, he couldn’t help being impressed. Giles had added finishing touches that Xander wouldn’t have thought of: symbols painted on the walls and floor, which gave a cool touch to the utilitarian space, even the weapons hanging on the wall had been arranged in a way that made them look like a lethal work of art. “Buffy’s going to love it.”

“I hope that you will make use of it as well, Xander.”

Xander looked over at him in surprise. “What?”

“The space is large enough for several people to train at the same time and you’ve worked too hard not to reap the rewards.” Giles frowned uncertainly for a minute. “If you’re interested of course. Are you still training with Spike?”

“Yeah, when we get the chance.” Which wasn’t as often as Spike thought they should and Xander found himself looking around the room with fresh eyes. The mansion didn’t have more than the basics - pretty much just floor mats and weapons. Spike would appreciate the pieces of equipment Giles had acquired, including the practice dummy which Dawn had dressed in clothes that looked suspiciously like some of Xander’s old wardrobe from freshman year. 

He liked the idea of being able to use the room. It would allow them to vary their training routine a bit and he and Spike could work out together more frequently if they didn’t have to traipse all the way out to Angel’s mansion to train. He bit back a grin, picturing Giles’ reaction if he were to find Xander and Spike going at it on the floor in here after a workout session, as frequently happened at the mansion. Well, they could still use the mansion when they wanted nookie after a workout.

“I’m glad to hear that. You are too involved in Hellmouth activities not to be prepared for anything.” 

Xander gave him a rueful smile. “That’s pretty much what Spike figures.” Not that he minded the training sessions. Knowing how to defend himself had led to him losing a lot of his geekiness and done a lot to make high school more bearable. Being able to take down Jack O’Toole, the school psycho, without breaking a sweat had given him some serious cool points he’d been lacking for most of his life.

“And I admit, asking Spike to spar with Buffy on occasion had crossed my mind.” Giles looked a trifle sheepish, like he thought he was being sneaky.

“Spike will probably love it.” Xander assured him.

“Oh, my god. Giles.” Buffy’s soft exclamation caused them both to turn.

She’d stopped short in the doorway, and remained there, speechless with shock as she examined the completed space. She’d been busy all week, prepping for a couple of tests, and hadn’t come by the shop at all to see the progress that had been made. Giles had gone above and beyond, Xander thought fondly, pouring his heart into the training space, still touched that Buffy had asked him to start acting as her Watcher again, neglecting even the shop up front as he’d worked to finish the back room for Buffy. The shop still needed the finishing touches that Giles had lavished on the back room, but there was another week before the scheduled grand opening, so there was plenty of time. 

Buffy completed her long survey and gave Giles a beaming smile. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Her voice was almost trembling with emotion and Xander was glad for Giles’ sake that Buffy obviously appreciated his efforts. Looking around again, he felt a renewed surge of pleasure on his own behalf that Giles wasn’t holding the room exclusively for his Slayer’s use and was going to allow Spike and Xander to use it as well.

“It’s just a start,” Giles began dismissively. “You need a proper space to train, so…”

Buffy interrupted him. “I love it,” she said emphatically and Giles smiled at her.

Riley, who’d followed Buffy in, had been fidgeting impatiently as Buffy admired the room. “So come on,” he said, bouncing on his toes a little. “Let’s test this puppy out. Think you can take me?”

He threw a fake punch at her, which she dodged absently, her attention still on the room. She walked further inside, trailing her hand over the vaulting horse and the exercise bike.

“What’s the matter, afraid of a little competition?”

Safely behind him, Xander rolled his eyes. Why did Riley feel like he had to be the focus of Buffy’s attention every second? Sometimes Xander wondered just how insecure Riley was about their relationship. 

Buffy and Giles were still talking quietly, Buffy exclaiming over the various items in the room and Giles responding with embarrassed pleasure. Not wanting Riley to spoil hers and Giles’ moment, Xander clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Just going to have to live with it, guy. We always lose out to a good piece of training equipment.”

He’d meant it as a joke but Riley winced and his jaw tightened in a way that said he’d taken Xander literally and didn’t like it.

“Oh, I don’t know, pet. Take you over the gym any day.” Spike appeared in the doorway, having come in through the tunnels, and his grin was pure malice. Xander sighed quietly, knowing how much Spike loved to twist the knife in Riley. “’Course, sometimes I just take you in the gym.”

Spike slid a possessive arm around Xander’s waist and Xander leaned into him. He didn’t know what to say to make Riley feel better but, admittedly, he didn’t feel like putting that much effort into it. Riley gave Spike a disgusted look and moved to stand next to Buffy, who inadvertently added fuel to the fire by ignoring him, still concentrating on Giles.

“Thank you guys so much. You’re like my fairy godmother and Santa Claus and Q all wrapped up into one.” She looked at both him and Giles as she said it and Xander grinned, glad she was so happy, although he couldn’t help wondering how Q fit into the mix. Buffy must have seen his puzzlement because she shook her head, looking amused. 

“Q from Bond, not Star Trek,” she clarified. “I’m gonna go change.”

Riley looked frustrated as she left the room to get her workout clothes before turning to throw a punch at the punching bag. Xander shared a troubled look with Giles but neither said anything. He couldn’t help wondering what Riley expected. Buffy slept with him most nights and had recently started patrolling with him again, what did he want? They were together a lot more frequently than most couples, including him and Spike. But somehow, it never seemed to be enough for Riley.

Thinking about that - that the possessive demon was more able to give his lover slack than Riley, Xander gave Spike a quick, one-armed hug, unbelievably grateful for Spike’s willingness to give him the space he had needed. He looked at Spike and saw he was smirking at Riley. Xander eyed him suspiciously, wondering what his lover was up to. Something was giving Spike a great deal of malicious pleasure at Riley’s expense and Xander just hoped it wasn’t the obvious signs of friction between Buffy and Riley.

Friction wasn’t really the right word. The two of them were just…out of sync somehow. That was the only way Xander could think to describe it. Riley was trying too hard, like the boys in high school who’d tried to impress Queen C. It was weird that someone with Riley’s background would be that insecure - didn’t he realize how hard Buffy was trying and how much she wanted their relationship to work?

Shaking his head, Xander steered his vampire out of the training room. Buffy and Riley would work out together and maybe Riley would stop feeling ignored. In the meantime, Spike and he would help Giles up front, which would be Spike’s penance for his undoubtedly evil thoughts about Riley.

Not that he was going to tell Spike that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So mom looks at me and says: ‘who are you?’, then she just drops to the floor.”

“Dawn,” Buffy said warningly as she passed through on the way to the living room.

“What? Now that we know she’s ok, it was kind of exciting.” Dawn called after her. She looked back at Spike where he leaned against the wall, watching in amusement as Xander quietly took the handful of cutlery she was gesturing absentmindedly with out of her hands and began laying them out on the table. “I’ve never called 911 before, have you?”

“Before my time, Niblet,” Spike told her, choosing to forget the time he’d called 911 for the Watcher last year. It was something vampires simply didn’t do. “Didn’t even have telephones yet.”

“Really? Wow. How did you keep in touch with people?” Dawn kept right on talking without waiting for an answer. “Anyway, the ambulance guys wouldn’t let me go with them so I was stuck here and I couldn’t get anyone on the phone.”

“Sorry about that, Dawn,” Xander said. “They were doing some explosives work on the site and they made us all shut off our cell phones just in case. I forgot to turn mine back on, so I didn’t get your message until after work.” He finished setting the last of the silverware around the table and went to fetch something from the kitchen.

“I know, you told me that already. Anyway, I finally got ahold of Riley and he took me to the hospital.” She lowered her voice a little, which surprised Spike. Dawn usually had as little tact as he did himself. “I always kind of thought he was a doofus, you know, because he’s so hung up on Buffy.” 

Spike smirked, enjoying Dawn’s low opinion of soldier boy, then frowned as she continued.

“But he was pretty cool. He took me out for ice cream while Buffy and mom were waiting for the test results and kept telling me mom was going to be fine. It really helped.” 

Fortunately, Xander reappeared with a handful of napkins and saved him from having to say anything.

“Riley’s pretty dependable about that sort of thing,” Xander told her. “Hey, the water in the big pot is boiling. You’re supposed to do something with that, right?”

“Oh! Right. The vegetables. I’m on it.” 

Dawn disappeared into the kitchen and Xander gave him a smirk and a quick kiss. “You don’t have to look like someone slipped you pig’s blood instead of human.” he said under his breath. “Riley is good about ordinary stuff like that. It’s just with demon stuff that the stick up his butt shows.”

“Got that right,” Spike agreed, slipping his fingers through the belt loops on Xander’s jeans and tugging him closer. 

“Spike!” Xander hissed. “We don’t make out in front of Dawn.”

“Slayer’s always complainin’ about how her little sister needs to grow up, be good for her to see us in action,” Spike argued persuasively.

“Forget Buffy, Joyce will kill us.”

“Oh, yeah.” Spike reluctantly released his hold and Xander was innocently putting napkins around the table when Dawn reappeared. 

“Dinner in ten minutes.” She threw a worried look over her shoulder at the stove. “I think. This is a lot easier when mom does it.”

“It’s good practice for you, Dawn Patrol,” Xander told her cheerfully.

“I’m 15. By the time I need to cook, stoves will be obsolete.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Buffy said dryly, returning from the living room just in time to hear that prediction. “Everything ok in the kitchen?”

Despite her trip to the hospital on Friday, Joyce had insisted on having them over for Sunday dinner as planned, saying she felt just fine and wasn’t going to miss their company because of a silly dizzy spell. Spike and Xander had agreed to come over, wanting to see for themselves that she was alright, but only on the strict condition that Joyce was not allowed to do anything. Buffy had backed them up, even after realizing that she was going to have to cook dinner for them all.

Joyce had argued that she was perfectly capable of cooking dinner and Xander had been the one to find a diplomatic solution, telling Joyce that it would be good practice for Buffy and Dawn to cook a big meal with Joyce supervising but not doing any of the work. That had made Joyce laugh and she’d admitted that her first dinner party had been a disaster. 

Arriving at the house tonight, Joyce had seemed fine and it hadn’t taken long to persuade her to give them all a blow by blow description of that long ago dinner party. She’d kept them all laughing as Buffy and Dawn had traveled back and forth between living room and kitchen and Joyce and Xander hogged the cheese and crackers that Buffy had triumphantly produced as an appetizer.

Joining in the laughter, Spike had felt the anxiety he had been trying to ignore since he heard Joyce was in the hospital slip away from him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike sat on the back porch, smoking a cigarette and contentedly listening to the sound of Xander and Dawn joking and splashing as they did the dishes together. Joyce still seemed fine, nothing but a small bandage on her forehead to show she’d been in the hospital at all. Hearing her now, scolding the dishwashing crew for getting more water on the floor than in the sink, Spike grinned.

Joyce was more mother to Xander than his own had ever been and it would devastate him if anything ever happened to her. The bungalow on Revelo Drive had become the home Xander had never known, Joyce and Dawn had practically adopted Xander as son and older brother respectively and even the Slayer had gradually come around to welcoming Xander into her family. 

The back door opened quietly and Buffy stepped outside, wrapping a sweater around herself and taking a deep breath of the night air. She made a face at the smell of his cigarette and Spike was feeling mellow enough that he obligingly pinched the butt out and flicked it away.

He was a little surprised when Buffy came and sat down beside him on the top step, her shoulder almost brushing his.

“Thanks for keeping Dawn occupied tonight,” she said quietly, after a minute. “It was kind of nice to have a few minutes with mom by myself.” Spike lifted his scarred eyebrow at her and she made a face. “I know, I’m a bad sister, but sometimes she just drives me crazy.”

“Xander doesn’t mind,” he said dismissively, not willing to admit he loved Dawn as much as Xander did. “Think he always kind of wished he had a brother or sister.”

“He can have Dawn,” Buffy offered immediately. “Thank God Riley took her off my hands at the hospital or I probably would have strangled her just to get five minutes of quiet.”

“Joyce tellin’ the truth? The doctors didn’t find anythin’ wrong?”

“Yeah, they think she just had low blood sugar or something. All their tests came back negative. So, big scare but nothing actually wrong.” Buffy looked as relieved as Spike felt. 

He struggled with himself for a minute, hating that he felt any sense of obligation at all. Bloody hell, he thought, fucking sentiment was turning him into as big a poofter as his Sire. Next thing you knew he was going to be helping little old ladies cross the sodding street. He sighed inaudibly and gave in to the sudden charitable impulse. 

“Soldier boy needs a look-see by a doctor, Slayer,” he said, trying to make up for his namby-pamby sentiment by saying it as harshly as possible.

“What do you mean?” The non-sequitor caught her off guard and she gave him a puzzled look.

“Mean his heart’s all wonky. Goin’ to kill him before long if somethin’ isn’t done,” he told her bluntly.

She stared at him, shocked. “What…? How do you know?”

He gave her an impatient look. “I’m a vampire. Humans are our prey. Never liked hunting the sick myself - no challenge to them. Wouldn’t hunt your boy now because of it.” He snorted when she just looked blank. “Can hear it in his chest, Slayer. His heart’s about to explode it’s working so hard.” He shrugged, not really caring if she believed him or not. He’d be just as happy if the soldier died, but she’d be miserable and that would make Dawn and Xander both feel bad for her. 

“His heartbeat’s been off since the first time I met him. Not surprising given all the drugs and shite they pumped into him. But recently, it’s getting worse. A little faster, a little more stressed every time I’ve been in the same room with him.”

The Slayer looked like things she hadn’t understood before were suddenly adding up in a whole new way and she looked scared and furious and grimly determined all at once. “And you’re mentioning this only now?” she snapped, getting to her feet.

“Don’t like him, Slayer. Wouldn’t lift a finger for his sake, even if he dropped in front of me. But he came through for Dawn and your mum, so I figure I owe him somethin’.”

Buffy gave him an unreadable look, then headed for the kitchen door. She stopped with her hand on the knob and looked back at him. “Thanks for telling me, Spike, although next time don’t wait so long.”

“Don’t count on a next time. Not like I’m soldier boy’s guardian angel, or anythin’.” Spike told her. 

Buffy shook her head but didn’t say anything else, opening the door and heading straight for the phone. Spike could hear her beginning to dial as he lit another cigarette. Captain America would find himself in a hospital bed before long, he suspected.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fishing around in his tool belt, Xander cursed the tendency of his cell phone to migrate to the least accessible spots. He could swear he always put it in the same small pocket but somehow it never seemed to stay put. He was pretty sure it was a side effect of the Hellmouth. He made a small triumphant sound as his searching fingers closed on the small bit of plastic and he hauled it out, flipping it open and answering just before the call went to voice mail.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Xander, it’s me.”

“Hey, Buffy, what’s up?” Xander shifted the tool belt back over his shoulder where he was carrying it on the walk home, glad that Buffy had gotten better about calling him after work instead of during the middle of the day.

“I’m wondering if you can help me with something.” Buffy’s voice sounded oddly hesitant.

“Sure thing,”

“It’s Riley, I’m hoping maybe you can talk some sense into him.”

“Umm… About what?” Xander asked after a short, taken-aback moment. It wasn’t like Buffy didn’t know that he and Riley weren’t exactly friends. For Buffy’s sake, they tried to be polite, but it was still pretty obvious that he thought Riley was an insecure, demon-phobic moron and Riley thought Xander was almost a demon himself, between being Spike’s Claimed and having way too many friends who weren’t human. 

“They’re something wrong with him and he’s refusing to go see a doctor.” Buffy’s worry and exasperation came through clearly over the phone and Xander frowned.

“What do you mean there’s something wrong with him?” he asked, wondering if it was ingrown toenails or some Hellmouthy symptom that a doctor wouldn’t be able to do anything about.

“Didn’t Spike tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Spike told me after dinner on Sunday that Riley’s having heart problems. Riley just says his heart isn’t like a normal human’s anymore and is refusing to get himself checked out.”

“Spike told you?” Xander’s eyebrows shot up. Not that Spike wasn’t always listening to Xander’s body and taking completely unfair advantage of what his heart and lungs were telling him about what Xander was feeling both physically and emotionally. It was why he didn’t play poker with Spike anymore. He much preferred to play with Jose who seemed to feel that taking advantage of his ability to sense the other guy’s pulse rate and eye dilation was ungentlemanly - a lesson Xander wished Spike would take to heart. No, Spike could just go play poker with the crazy kitten-fetish demons when he got the urge.

Not that living with Mr. Diagnostician didn’t have its advantages, he’d been infinitely reassured when Spike had told him on the way home Sunday night that he couldn’t sense anything wrong with Joyce. It wasn’t foolproof by any means, but it was nice to know there wasn’t anything obvious the doctors had missed.

He realized that Buffy was talking again, and pulled his wandering thoughts back in line, listening as she described the conversation with Spike on Sunday night. 

“Anyway, I’ve been trying to get him to go to a doctor since then and he’s flat out refusing. I thought maybe you could try. You seem to get the whole macho guy thing, and right now, I’m thinking of knocking him unconscious and dragging him bodily into a doctor’s office, but I’m pretty sure that would be bad.”

“Probably,” Xander agreed, rolling his eyes since she couldn’t see him. “But I’m not sure he’d listen to me either.”

“Frankly, I’m getting desperate. I even thought of asking Spike to tell him not to go to a doctor, but Riley’s got too much psych background to be fooled by reverse psychology.”

“Not to mention everything else that could go wrong in a Spike-Riley conversation,” Xander said absently, thinking hard.

“Yeah, there’s that.”

“Buffy, he’s officially liaison between the remnants of the Initiative stationed at the army base and the town, right?”

“Right. Not that there’s all that much liaisoning going on but he does write reports once a week.”

“Why don’t you approach his commanding officer? They can just order him to see a doctor.”

From the slight pause, Buffy was thinking that over. “That sounds good, but I don’t know how to get in contact with them, other than sending a letter and who knows how long that could take. Riley’s told me that sometimes he wonders if anyone is even reading his reports anymore since things have been so quiet.”

“Then talk to Sgt. Morgan. He can’t order Riley around, because Riley outranks him, but I bet he knows who can.”

“That’s a good idea,” Buffy’s voice brightened. “I’ll do that right now. Thanks, Xander. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

Buffy hung up and Xander slid his cell into his pocket and resumed his walk home. He suspected he’d just figured out why Spike had been looking at Riley so weirdly and wondered if he should say something to Spike. 

No point, he decided. Spike and Riley hated each other and random acts of kindness towards enemies simply weren’t something that Spike did. He wondered briefly why Spike had said anything to Buffy in the first place, but decided that it was just a sign of the fact that Buffy and Spike were getting to be better friends. Spike would be embarrassed and defensive if he said anything, so he’d just keep his mouth shut.

~~~~~


	9. Chapter 9

Xander stood ready, holding the full-size axe in both hands and eyeing his target. In a sudden flurry of movement, he swung the axe up and sent it hurtling across the empty space between them, the blade making a shining arc as it spun in mid-air until it landed with a loud crack, and refused to lodge in the thick wood, dropping to the floor with a clang of metal that rang loudly in the silent room.

“Damn it!”

“Gettin’ better, luv.” Spike told him encouragingly. He hopped down from his perch on the pommel horse and approached Xander. “You’re releasing too soon.”

Xandeer grumbled and walked across the room to fetch the axe which had dropped in front of the thick wooden panel Giles had set up to absorb the shock of heavy weapons being thrown. “Why can’t I stick with the hand axe? I’m better with them.”

“Because sometimes you need somethin’ with a bit more heft. Try again.”

“Maybe I should try throwing it with a spinning motion.” Xander pictured that in his head. Spinning should give him the momentum the axe needed but…

“Too hard to control,” Spike interrupted his thoughts.

“You do it.”

“Been throwin’ axes for a century, luv,” Spike said with a smirk. “You need a bit more practice before you can pull it off.”

“A bit’?” he asked suspiciously.

“Should have it down in a year or so,” Spike told him cheerfully.

Xander glared at him. “Careful, lover, I’m the one with an axe in my hand.”

Spike grinned at him unrepentantly.

Sighing, Xander turned to take aim at the target once again. Spike had taken all too eagerly to the idea of using the back room at the Magic shop to train and this was the third time this week they’d met here after sunset. Spike thoroughly approved of most of Giles’ plans for the room and had made suggestions of his own which Giles had received eagerly. Xander suspected that both he and Buffy were going to be working harder for awhile. 

One of the suggestions had been for the thick board with the crude target painted on it that Xander had been throwing axes at for the last half hour. Spike had always been in favor of anything that kept Xander further away from his opponent and had taken full advantage of the increased space in the new training room to decide that it was time Xander learned to throw a full-size axe with the same accuracy he could throw a hand axe. Trouble was, the axe he was working with weighed a lot more than the smaller ones he was used to and the increased size and weight had thrown his aim off entirely. The axe kept hitting the board and falling to the floor, not digging in like it was supposed to. And his arms were beginning to hurt, which wasn’t helping. 

He swung the axe up one more time, but the shop bell sounding in the front room gave him an excuse to lower it again and surreptitiously rub his upper arm, trying to ease the sore muscles. “Company.”

Spike gave him a look which showed clearly that he knew Xander was making excuses but didn’t say anything, turning to face the door as they heard Buffy and Dawn greet Giles.

“Hi, guys.”

Dawn bounced into the back room, shrugging out of her back pack and tossing it aside as she entered. Buffy followed more slowly on her heels, frowning at her like she always seemed to with Dawn these days. 

“This is so cool,” Dawn exclaimed, staring around her. “Spike, we can use this when Buffy isn’t, right?”

The minute the words were out, she clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late.

“WHAT?!”

Xander just laughed, setting the axe down. “Come on, Buffy, you didn’t think that Spike would let Dawn go without self-defense training did you?”

“And why wasn’t I told about this?” Buffy demanded, glaring at all three of them.

“Because we knew you’d freak,” Dawn told her. “Spike’s been training me for months now.” She grinned in a way she’d picked up from Spike. “Want me to show you some of my moves?”

Buffy closed her eyes and looked like she was counting to ten. Maybe 50. In Roman numerals. “I’m in hell. No, I’m in some alternate version of reality that will end any minute now.” She waited, as if hoping the reality where a Master Vampire had been training her kid sister to fight would disappear.

“Niblet’s not half bad,” Spike said, obviously completely unconcerned about Buffy’s disapproval. “Not ready to take on a Fyarl demon yet, but she’ll hold her own against vampires.”

“You let my sister fight a vampire?!” Buffy’s eyes snapped open and she looked on the verge of attacking Spike.

Xander winced. Buffy was going to blow a gasket at this rate. He shot Spike a warning look and answered quickly before Spike could make things worse - and from the look on Spike’s face, that’s exactly what he was planning. Probably going to tell Buffy that Dawn had been staking vampires for months or some such nonsense. “Of course not, Buffy. Dawn’s never been in any danger,” he said soothingly.

“Yeah, these two over-protective fraidy-cats won’t ever let me fight anything for real,” Dawn said. It had been the source of a number of arguments once Dawn had mastered some of the basics. Much to Dawn’s annoyance, Spike and Xander had been absolutely in agreement that her fighting skills were going to stay untested by real battle.

“Oi!” Spike said, outraged at being called a fraidy cat.

“It’s true,” Dawn insisted. “I’m so ready for patrol and you guys won’t let me.”

“See?” Xander said to Buffy. “Completely safe.”

Buffy crossed her arms and tapped one foot in a way that suggested she was less than convinced. “She was a lot safer when she didn’t think she should be patrolling.”

“Oh, please,” Dawn said. “Two kids in my class were killed by vampires the first month after we moved here. Everyone in Sunnydale should learn how to defend themselves.”

Xander agreed with her. It was the reason he’d gone along with Spike’s plans to give Dawn some training in the first place. Well, that and the fact that Spike was already busily setting up a training schedule with Dawn before Xander even knew what was going on.

Buffy had been adamant that Dawn should be shielded from the reality of the Hellmouth from day one, and Joyce had taken the same position, when she’d learned the truth about Sunnydale and her daughter being the Slayer. Spike had only decided to go behind Joyce’s back when he began to know and like Dawn. Xander couldn’t help agreeing with him. Dawn needed basic self-defense skills the same way that Xander had when Spike first began training him. It only made sense. In his opinion, Sunnydale’s high death rate was largely due to the persistence blindness of the people in town. If the population routinely carried weapons and had even rudimentary self-defense skills, more people would be able to fend off vampire attacks.

Of course, the town had had a not-quite-human Mayor for over a hundred years and he’d been a lot more interested in keeping the town open for business and preparing to become a giant snake than in protecting the actual people who kept voting for him, but still…

He could see that Dawn’s remark had hit home with Buffy, and relaxed, no longer worried this would turn into anything physical. Buffy would get used to the idea and Dawn would be able to train with them here in the back room under Buffy and Giles’ watchful eyes.

Now, if Buffy would just agree not to worry Joyce by telling her about this, everything was good. Anyway, Joyce would understand.

Probably.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander opened the door to the newly renamed Magic Box and hesitated, caught off guard by the lack of people inside. Giles gave him a distracted smile and Tara gave him a shy wave from behind the counter where she was doing something with a pile of herbs.

“Giles, how’s it going?” Maybe all the customers had already been and gone and this was just a lull. Buffy and Dawn had been confidently predicting opening day would find the shop full of hordes of people shopping ‘til they dropped, but this looked more like Spike’s prediction of disaster and bankruptcy.

“It’s been a little slow, but no doubt business will pick up soon.” Giles said, his voice calm.

“You’ve been open half a day already, Ripper, and the only people to walk through the door have all been here to show their support for this asinine adventure of yours,” a familiar voice said acidly from the upstairs loft where Giles had put all his research books on shelves Xander had built to hold them. Ethan Rayne glanced over the railing at Giles, a book open in his hands. “You’d think they’d show some bloody solidarity by actually purchasing something in your hour of need.”

“It’s hardly my hour of need,” Giles told him. He looked around the empty shop with its neatly organized displays of everything from bizarre esoteric ingredients to the small section of magician’s party tricks. “No, I’ve got a good feeling about this place. Magic’s a small niche market but... well, think about it. Sunnydale... monsters... supply and demand. They’ll be lining up around the block in no time.”

“When they’re not crashing through the front window to destroy the place,” Ethan predicted, turning back to his book.

Xander smiled to himself. Despite the waspish comments, it was obvious Ethan had turned up to support Giles, in his own unique way.

“Not to mention, it might take a few days for word to spread that the store is open again,” he told Giles encouragingly. 

The bell over the door jingled and Buffy and Riley came in, followed shortly by Dawn. Buffy and Riley had seen the finished store already but Dawn was impressed.

“Whoa! Mr. Giles! This place is so... wow. I mean, check out all the magic junk,” she exclaimed, looking around eagerly. 

“Ah, yes. Our new slogan,” Giles murmured. 

“So when’s it open? You know, for customers?”

“Since nine this morning, actually,” Giles admitted.

“Dawn,” Buffy said through gritted teeth. “Go. Browse. And…”

“‘You break it, you bought it’, I know. I heard you the first sixty times,” Dawn grumbled, moving off to explore the shelves.

There was a brief, awkward silence, broken by Riley with a too-obvious change in subject. “So, Buffy, are we on for patrol tonight?” Riley asked.

Buffy hesitated for just a second too long.

“You can't patrol. Buffy said,” Dawn blurted out, looking up from a display of crystals. Xander was torn between laughing at the looks on Buffy and Riley’s faces and wincing. Dawn really could put her foot in it at times.

“No, I didn’t.” Buffy insisted, but it was too little, too late, and it was obvious Riley didn’t believe her. Dawn forged on.

“Yes, you did. You said it would be easier if you didn’t have to look out for anybody.” She made a face and told Riley: “Welcome to the club. She’ll never let me go either.”

“I wasn’t talking about Riley,” Buffy gritted out, glaring at Dawn.

“Well, if you weren’t, you should have been,” Xander snapped. “Riley, don’t be stupid. You had major surgery less than a week ago. You shouldn’t be patrolling.”

“It was just a minor procedure. I’m fine,” Riley said defensively.

“Anything where people cut into your body and mess around with major organs is not something to fool around with.”

“Riley, he’s right,” Giles said quietly. “I know the pacemaker is temporary and you are going to be fine, but you need to give your body time to recover. Build your strength back slowly.”

Riley looked frustrated and Buffy eyed him worriedly. “I did say that I didn’t think you should be patrolling,” she admitting, biting her lip nervously. “I’m sorry I said it in front of Dawn - really sorry,” she emphasized, looking pointedly at Dawn. “But you’re really worrying me. Not patrolling for a couple of weeks isn’t a big deal. It’s just until you’re healed and back to full strength.”

Riley crossed his arms stubbornly, looking at the circle of faces confronting him. “Fine. Giles, you got that danger room set up out back? I’ll go work out for awhile, I’m suddenly feeling the need for a little physical rehab about now.” He spun on his heel and headed for the back. 

Buffy started after him but Giles stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. “Let him go Buffy. I’ll see to it that he doesn’t over-train.”

“Why can’t he be reasonable about this?” she asked, gazing after Riley’s departed form.

“Because he’s an insecure idiot who sees you slipping through his fingers,” Ethan offered, his voice carrying clearly down from the loft. 

Buffy scowled. “Who let chaos-guy in?”

“No one let me in, I’m more than capable of opening doors for myself. This is a public shop.”

“Yeah, well Giles should be more discriminating about his customers.” She said automatically. It was obvious that her thoughts were still on Riley. 

“I like Ethan,” Dawn volunteered. “He’s cute.”

“Thank you, I’ll try not to let it go to my head that I’m the subject of an adolescent’s crush.”

“Ewww! I didn’t say I had a crush on you,” Dawn said indignantly, staring up at the loft, hands on her hips. “You’re like way old. You’re cute like the old guys in the park who try and pick up the old ladies.”

Giles’ shoulders were shaking with silent laughter and Buffy’s initial annoyance had been replaced by a certain malicious amusement at Ethan’s expense. 

“On that note, I think Dawn and I should leave.” 

“What? We just got here. Can’t I look around awhile longer?”

“Five minutes,” Buffy allowed. “Don’t break anything,” she reminded Dawn again.

Dawn rolled her eyes at the repeated warning but quickly took advantage of the offer, crossing the room to explore further. 

Buffy collapsed into one of the chairs at the table Giles had set up near the loft stairs, dropping her purse onto the table and wincing when it landed with a clunk. “Damn, I forgot. I hope I didn’t break it.” She fished around in the over-sized bag for a minute, then triumphantly produced a softball-sized sphere that was glowing softly. She turned it over in her hands, frowning at it. “What the hell is it?”

Giles took his glasses off and took the sphere from her gingerly, beginning to examine it. “It appears to be paranormal in origin.”

“That covers a lot of ground, Giles.” Xander peered curiously at the sphere as Giles handed it to him. “Where’s it from?”

“I found it on patrol last night. In the warehouse district.”

Xander passed it to Tara who’d left her spot behind the counter to join them in examining the object. She gave him a shy smile and studied the sphere for a moment before handing it back to Giles.

“We’ll have to do some research,” Giles said. “Right now, my supposition that it’s paranormal is based solely on the fact that it’s glowing.”

“You really are losing your touch, Ripper.” In his concentration on the sphere, Xander hadn’t heard Ethan come downstairs. Now the chaos mage tweaked the sphere out of Giles’ hands and cradled it in both of his. “It’s practically humming with power.”

Ethan’s hands moved over the sphere almost reverently as he examined it from all sides. “This is old. Decades, if not centuries, would be my guess. If I’m right, the color probably indicates some type of light magic.” 

“What’s light magic?” Buffy asked.

Ethan looked exasperated, but Giles interrupted him before he could speak. “Spells that were intended to help people, for protection, or warding off evil spirits, that type of thing. Those types of spells often manifested in gold or yellow light.”

“Th-the color represented the sun,” Tara said hesitantly, “S-so people would understand that the spell w-wasn’t intended to harm anything.”

Ethan snorted. “More like the local Bishop wouldn’t burn you at the stake if you could pass your magic off as a miracle. Harder to do when the spell is black or red - the colors of Satan and darkness.”

Tara subsided, ducking her head, and Xander scowled at Ethan. She spoke up in company so rarely that Xander hated to see her shut down.

“Yes, be that as it may, we should see if we can find out what it is.” Giles took the sphere back from Ethan, giving him a hard look when Ethan seemed inclined to hang onto it. Ethan smirked at him and released the glowing orb. “Tara, can you spare an hour or two to help me research?”

Tara nodded her head and Giles smiled at her. “Thank you. Ethan, make yourself useful and fetch some books from upstairs for us to start on.”

“Giles, I’m going to leave you to it and take Dawn home,” Buffy said, picking up her purse and signaling to Dawn, who had, remarkably, ignored the discussion about the glowing sphere. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, poking through a box of some kind of doohickeys, and now sighed at Buffy’s call and rolled to her feet, picking up the box and putting back on the shelf.

“Count me out too, if you don’t mind,” Xander said. “I’m better with demons than magic stuff and this doesn’t seem like it’s end of the world urgent.”

“You can never tell,” Ethan said darkly. Giles rolled his eyes at the dramatics.

“Of course, Xander. Tara and I shouldn’t have any difficulty finding something. It’s more her area than yours.”

Giles gave her a warm smile. Tara had been quietly helpful as he got the shop ready to open, and she’d admitted that she’d spent a lot of time in the shop under the previous owner. Giles had coaxed her into talking about what she’d liked and disliked about the shop and had implemented a number of her suggestions. The result was a layout much lighter and more welcoming than it had been originally.

Ethan came down the stairs with an armful of books and Xander wished them luck. He headed for the back room, meeting Giles’ curious look with a grimace. He mouthed ‘Riley’ silently and Giles nodded understanding.

Stepping into the back room, Xander watched Riley on the weight machine. His jaw tightened as he saw that Riley had piled on the weight to Slayer levels and was lying on the bench struggling to lift the bar. He’d stripped down to a muscle shirt and sweat already dampened the fabric, his arms visibly trembling as he fought the weights.

Xander shook his head in disgust and walked silently over to the machine. He added his weight to the bar and sent the metal plates crashing back down as Riley gasped and let them drop under the increased strain.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” Xander asked harshly. “In which case, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do it in here where Dawn might stumble across your body.”

“Shut up, Xander. I know what I’m doing.”

“Really? Because from here, it looks like you’re trying to be a macho asshole.”

Riley swung his feet off the bench and stood up. “You want to start something?”

Xander rolled his eyes. “Do I want to start something with someone who’s only a week from major surgery and the boyfriend of someone I care about? No. I’m trying to stop you from killing yourself because it will hurt people I care about.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Riley repeated. To Xander’s relief, he stepped back, and used the excuse of reaching for his shirt to back down from the confrontation.

He should probably let this go. Riley was convinced that Buffy wouldn’t want him if he didn’t have the extra edge that Maggie Walsh’s experiments had given the Initiative soldiers and that nagging insecurity was driving him to behave like a crazy person. Only a direct order had gotten him in to see a doctor, who had spent five minutes examining Riley before telling him he would be dead inside a week if he continued to ignore the problem and who’d immediately arranged for an operating room.

From what Buffy had told him, Riley’s heart had been beating way faster than normal and that had given Riley a false burst of extra strength and stamina - similar to how he’d felt when taking the Initiative’s drugs. As far as Xander could tell, Riley had been so determined to cling to the feeling of being more than human that he’d convinced himself he could handle it. Like any human could handle their heart exploding, Xander thought.

Wait a minute. A direct order.

“You’ve commanded soldiers in the field, Riley,” he said slowly. “Ask yourself this: would you let a soldier in your condition go on a mission?”

The muscles in Riley’s jaw tightened and he avoided Xander’s eyes, making a production of tucking his shirt in.

“You wouldn’t, because it would endanger not only the soldier but everyone else in the unit.” 

Riley’s head lifted at that and he stared at Xander stubbornly. 

“You’re endangering yourself by pulling this crap. More importantly, you’re endangering Buffy when you insist on patrolling with her when you know you aren’t ready. If she’s injured because she’s trying to protect you, you’ll never forgive yourself. Worse, if you die on her out doing stuff you know you shouldn’t be doing, she’s never going to recover from the guilt.”

He waited, hoping Riley would show some sign that his words were getting through but the soldier just stared over Xander’s shoulder, his face unreadable. 

“Personally, I wouldn’t want someone I love to have to go through that,” he said.

He turned and headed for the back door. Would the military agree to transfer Riley out of town if he continued to act like this? Sgt. Morgan might be able to pull that off. Question was, would Buffy forgive them if she found out about it?

~~~~~


	10. Chapter 10

The Magic Box had two actual customers in it when Xander stopped by after work the next day. Giles was behind the counter, just handing a small brown shopping bag to a customer. “Thank you for shopping at the Magic Box,” he said, like he’d been born to shopkeeping. “Do come again.”

Tara was talking quietly to a customer, apparently describing the difference between two bottles of equally disgusting looking eyeballs. Xander smiled at her, noticing again that, when it came to anything magical, Tara was comfortable and sure of herself.

Giles watched the customer he’d just helped leave, the bell over the door chiming as the door swung open, then came around the counter toward Xander. 

“Looking good, Giles.”

Giles had a very satisfied smile, almost smug. “Yes, there’s been a number of customers throughout the day. Nothing overwhelming, but a good, steady trickle. I’m very pleased.”

He glanced around the store, watching Tara with her customer approvingly. “I may just have to see if Tara would like a part-time job. She’s been an enormous help and I feel terrible taking advantage of her like this.”

“I don’t think she sees it that way,” Xander told him.

“No, but that doesn’t mean I can continue to abuse her good nature.” They watched as the customer chose one of the bottles Tara had been describing, and follow her to the cash register.

“So, Giles. Any news on the glow-ball front?”

“Oh, yes, thank you. I meant to talk to you about that.” Giles lead the way to the table in the back of the room and Xander followed curiously. After checking to be sure Tara’s customer wasn’t watching, he fished the sphere out of a drawer. It had been wrapped in a length of dark cloth and Giles waited until the customer left before unwrapping it and setting it down on the table in a nest of dark fabric. It was still glowing softly and was seriously cool looking, Xander thought, running a finger over its surface. If it turned out to be nothing, he wondered if Giles would let him keep it.

“We’ve learned rather more than I expected, I’m afraid. We may have underestimated what we’re dealing with.”

“How so?” Xander asked. So much for keeping it, he thought, suppressing a smile.

Tara drifted over to join them, sitting down at the table and listening as Giles explained.

“It’s called the Dagon Sphere and, as Ethan guessed, it has a history going back many centuries. It’s a protective device, used to ward off ancient primordial evil.”

“Ok,” Xander said slowly. “That sounds like something a bit more than just the monster of the week.”

“Yes, exactly. Unfortunately, that’s where accounts get vague. All we’ve managed to uncover so far is that the Dagon Sphere was created to repel That Which Cannot Be Named.”

Xander raised his eyebrows. “Great, Voldemort’s in town?”

Giles looked blank and Xander shook his head disapprovingly. “I know Superman references pretty much go right past you, Giles, but jeez, Voldemort’s British. You should know that one.” 

Tara giggled softly, ducking her head so her dark blonde hair fell forward, hiding her face.

“Meaningless pop culture references aside,” Giles said sternly, but with a hint of a smile in his eyes, “Anything that goes unnamed is usually an object of deep worship or great fear- possibly both.”

“So, more research?” Xander guessed.

“Yes, Tara and I will continue to see if we can find out anything more about it. I was wondering if you could ask Spike to check out the warehouse where Buffy found this.”

Xander leaned back a little, folding his arms over his chest and regarding Giles curiously. “Shouldn’t be a problem, but is there some reason you want it to be Spike?”

“Yes,” Giles told him immediately. “Buffy called this morning and I’ve told her to take the week off from patrol.”

“Is something wrong?” Xander glanced at Tara, who clearly had heard this before and was looking sympathetic but not overly concerned.

Giles shook his head. “Not really, it’s more a matter of…timing.” He took his glasses off and began polishing them absently. “Buffy’s mother isn’t feeling well.” He held up a hand to stop Xander’s anxious question. “Just a headache, as I understand it. But she’s apparently had several bad headaches in the past week and Buffy is understandably worried.”

Xander frowned. He hadn’t heard that Joyce wasn’t feeling well. 

“Buffy says her mother isn’t worried and didn’t want her daughters to fuss, so she hadn’t told them she wasn’t feeling well. Last night was apparently the first time she felt badly enough for Buffy or Dawn to notice anything was wrong.” Giles frowned and slid his glasses back on. “Actually, the bigger concern is Riley. Buffy doesn’t want him patrolling yet and it’s become rather a source of friction between them. Frankly, if she isn’t patrolling herself, it will be easier for her to keep him from doing anything foolish. I’ve asked the demon community to step in for her this week and they were more than happy to oblige.” His lips quirked and Xander was reminded that the demon volunteers had felt underused this year, with Buffy patrolling more often and more aggressively. No doubt they’d jumped at the chance to patrol for a full week.

Giles sighed. “In another week, Riley should be fully fit again at the rate he is pushing himself, and less of a danger to Buffy if he still insists on patrolling with her.” 

“Ok, that explains why Buffy’s not going,” Xander said. “Why Spike?” he asked again.

“I hope I’m just being paranoid. But if the Dagon Sphere was in that area for a reason, it might prove more than the volunteers can handle.” He looked at Xander steadily. “It may very well be nothing - Buffy certainly saw nothing unusual in the area, but I would rather be safe than sorry, as the saying goes.”

That made sense. Spike could handle anything Buffy could and someone had probably just been using the sphere as a paperweight or something. After all, Giles said they hadn’t found any recent references to it. 

“I’ll ask him to check out the building tonight,” he promised. Buffy had mentioned the old warehouse she’d found the sphere outside of and it wasn’t far from their apartment. “I’ll head home and catch him before he goes down to the Court. We’ll have a report for you in the morning.”

“Thank you, Xander.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike’s tousled head was half-buried in the pillows, his lean, muscular form sprawled in naked glory across the bed. Xander leaned against the doorjamb for a moment, admiring his sleeping lover in the dim light. Spike always drifted over to Xander’s side of the bed after Xander left in the morning. He claimed it was just for the lingering warmth that Xander was selfish enough to deprive him of by insisting on working but it always made Xander smile, knowing that Spike preferred the sheets and pillows that carried his scent.

“Bloody rotten hour to be disturbin’ a fellow’s sleep,” Spike complained without lifting his head.

“I’m just standing here,” Xander pointed out. “I’m not disturbing anything.”

“Could come join me and make up for having woken me in the middle of the day,” Spike suggesting, sounding a trifle more awake and a little hopeful. He shifted slightly, just enough to peer at Xander through one eye. “Something up?”

Xander crossed to the bed and sat down on the edge, running a hand down Spike’s back and enjoying the feeling of the impossibly cool, silky skin beneath his palm. Spike had the most amazingly soft skin. “Giles needs a favor. Wants us to check something out,” he said.

Spike made a happy, rumbling sound as Xander continued to trace his hand over his back. “Why isn’t Buffy handlin’ it?”

“Riley,” Xander said shortly.

Spike unprintable opinion of Riley and his fucking issues made Xander grin.

“Yeah, that about sums it up,” he agreed. “Still, could be interesting. Giles wants us to check out the warehouse where Buffy found the Dagon Sphere, just in case there’s more of them, or something.”

“Glow-ball you told me about?” Spike asked after a second.

“Got it. It’s apparently some big protective magic thingie and Giles wants to make sure there’s nothing else there.”

“Like someone who’s missing their magic glow-ball?” Spike suggested dryly. He rolled over and sat up, drawing his feet up under him so he was sitting cross-legged on the bed, coming totally awake in an instant in that way he had that Xander had always envied. Spike could remain bleary eyed and half-asleep for astounding periods of time during the day, but if there was the slightest hint of something dangerous, Spike was awake and ready for battle instantly.

“Right, or anything the Sphere is supposed to be protecting against that might be feeling frisky without it.” He shrugged. “I don’t think Giles really knows what we’re looking for, he just wants to make sure there isn’t anything there that we should know about.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

“I figure, we spend a few minutes after sunset checking it out, then head over to see Joyce. Buffy said she’s not feeling well.”

Spike frowned and Xander said quickly: “It’s probably nothing, but even if she’s not up to seeing anyone, we can check if there’s anything we can do.”

Spike captured his hand, which had continued its wandering journey over the new terrain exposed by Spike’s shift in position. He brought it to his lips and kissed it. “I’ll swing by the place then come back here for you.”

Xander rolled his eyes. “Spike, the place is only a few blocks from here. If something big and bad had moved in, you’d know about it, right?”

“Most like,” Spike admitted reluctantly.

“Plus, Buffy was there like two nights ago and all she saw was one fairly lame vampire.   
Anyway, you need me because you haven’t even seen the Dagon Sphere,” he finished triumphantly.

Spike just gave him a withering look. “Please. About so big,” he cupped his hands around an imaginary ball of approximately the right size. “Kind of roundish? Glows? I think I’ll recognize one if I stumble over it.”

“Ok, point,” Xander conceded, “but c’mon, it’s probably nothing and you know it. What are the chances that something big and scary has moved in less than 10 blocks away without you knowing about it and that Buffy didn’t stumble over while she was there.”

He knew he’d won when Spike sighed. “All right, luv.” Spike hated him going on patrol with him but this would be a routine look-see and they could get to the Summers’ house that much sooner.

He grinned at Spike. “Afterwards, I figure we just casually stop by and see Joyce. It’ll look more natural if we both go at the same time, like we were just coming back from having a beer or something. If she’s sleeping or whatever, we’ll just ask how she’s doing and leave.”

Spike smiled at him. “Getting sneaky, pet.”

“I’m subtle, not sneaky,” Xander told him loftily. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking up the concrete stairs, Spike smelled blood - lots of it. The scent filled the upper stories of the abandoned warehouse: the slight copper-tinged smell of fresh blood, like a still seeping wound not yet crusted over, and the thicker tang of old, dried blood. Underlying the rich blood scent was the reek of human waste. Someone had soiled themselves and no one had cleaned it up in the intervening hours. 

He signaled Xander to stay behind him, slowing his own pace as he climbed the last few steps, listening intently. He could hear someone breathing, the sound labored and painful in the empty building, the sound of someone clinging stubbornly to life despite serious injuries. Extending his hearing as far as it would go, Spike could hear nothing else in the top floor, except for Xander’s quiet breaths next to him as Spike held them motionless at the top of the stairs.

From the sounds of it, the fight was over and the victor had left. Or maybe, the one clinging to life was the winner and their opponent lay dead beside them. Either way, it didn’t seem like anything remained that could threaten Xander.

He walked forward, less concerned now about making noise that would give away their presence, Xander following at his heels. The stairs ended in a large open space that had once been divided in half by a thick metal door. Spike scanned the room quickly and saw no threats, then turned his attention to the door that had been torn completely out of place - recently from the looks of it. His lips pursed in a silent whistle and he bent down to examine it more closely. 

The door was inches-thick steel and it lay twisted and crumpled on the floor, like so much discarded tissue paper. Nothing Spike knew of was capable of doing that. Even the Mayor, post-transformation, might have been stopped by a door that thick. Yet something had not only destroyed six inches of solid metal, but kicked the whole thing in like it was nothing but a minor annoyance.

Beside him, Xander let out a shocked gasp, his eyes riveted on the brown-robed figure tied to a chair in the center of the room. It was obvious he’d just seen the man in the dim lighting. Spike’s better vision had spotted the man instantly, but he’d ignored the slumped figure - it was obviously no threat to either of them. Xander, of course, hurried towards it, dropping down beside the man to check his injuries.

The man groaned and stirred as Xander began working on the ropes tying him to the chair.

“Waste of time, luv,” Spike commented, running a hand over the bent metal on the floor. “Not goin’ to live long.”

Xander just gave him one of his this-is-not-negotiable looks and continued working. Spike sighed, knowing who was going to be the one who ended up carrying the nearly dead human out of the factory.

Granted, he was idly curious about what brought a monk to Sunnyhell. And who had tortured him so badly. Spike recognized talent when he saw it. From the looks of it, the monk had been beaten repeatedly over a long period of time, hours at least, possibly days. His eyes were swollen almost shut, bruises and cuts covered practically every inch of his face, and his brown, homespun robes were marked with splotches of old blood.

Xander pulled out his pocket knife to deal with the ropes and Spike moved forward resignedly to help. Xander wouldn’t be able to carry the man in his arms, and throwing him over his shoulder would finish the job someone had started. Xander wouldn’t forgive himself if the monk died because of careless handling.

Some sixth sense warned him and he swung around sharply, alerted by something he couldn’t name, and saw a blonde woman ostentatiously sneaking up on them, like she was playing a kid’s game. She had a manic smile on her face and her eyes were fixed on Xander and the monk, disregarding Spike entirely.

Her mistake.

Spike grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. “Your handiwork?” he asked, nodding towards the monk.

To his astonishment, the woman yanked her arm free of his grip with effortless ease and backhanded him across the face with stunning force, sending him flying across the room as if he weighed nothing. There was time only to curl in to protect his head before his back slammed into the concrete wall with such force the cement cracked. He heard Xander cry out, but he was too dazed and shaken by the impact to respond. It took a moment for him to recover, pulling his feet under him and pushing himself back up, using the wall as support. 

“Like it?”

The woman stood facing him, hands on her hips, smiling at him with the delight of an evil child. Even her voice was chipper, smugly pleased with herself. Ridiculously, she was wearing a red silk dress and matching high heels. Dressed for a cocktail party, not combat, she didn’t resemble a fighter in any way, but no Slayer he’d ever fought had the strength this woman had put behind that casual blow and Spike knew he was lucky his jawbone was still intact. He couldn’t sense anything not human about the woman and he was suddenly cautious and very much on guard. He wondered if she’d used some kind of mojo to boost her strength, or was just something he’d never encountered before.

“Who the fuck are you?” he snarled.

“More to the point, who are you?” she answered. “I was here first and that’s my monk your human is trying to steal.”

Xander’s head shot up. He’d been easing the monk to his feet, taking nearly all the injured man’s weight, obviously hoping to sneak him out of there, trusting Spike to deal with the woman. Like Spike, he’d caught the fact that the woman could tell Spike wasn’t human despite the fact that Spike had been so caught off guard he hadn’t even shed his human features yet - a fact he remedied with a shake of his head.

“I’m Xander, he’s Spike,” Xander offered, sliding a step or two closer to the stairs. “Ummm, not to be obvious or anything, but your monk needs medical attention.” He eased another step towards the exit and the woman’s head snapped around to face him. 

“Hands off my holy man. That’s stealing.”

Spike was moving the second her head turned, crossing the distance between them and launching himself at her. She swung back to face him an instant too late and Spike crashed into her, driving them both back across the floor in a tumbling heap.

“Hey! Mind the dress,” she snapped, as Spike released her and rolled away as fast as he could, jumping back to his feet instantly.

“Xander! Drop him and get the hell out of here!” he yelled. 

He launched a spin-kick at the woman as she was still getting up, acting more concerned with brushing dirt off her dress than with Spike’s attack. The kick landed, staggering her back a step and he spun and kicked her again, determined to keep her off balance and unable to close with him. Xander, he was infuriated but not surprised to see, was heading as quickly as he could for the stairs, stubbornly clinging to the mostly-dead monk he’d refused to leave behind.

“You kicked me!” The woman seemed outraged by the very idea. “You can’t go around kicking people.”

“Watch me,” he growled and snap-kicked her in the chin to make his point. Or at least that’s what should have happened. Instead, moving almost faster than he could see, she grabbed his foot with both hands and stopped his body in mid-motion.

“Fine! Be that way.” She thrust him away from her, using his boot and that inhuman strength to toss him head over heels, sending him crashing to the floor.

Prepared for it this time, Spike flipped back to his feet instantly, ignoring the pain the movement cost him. He snagged a long metal pole off the floor and charged her, swinging the pole viciously in front of him, slamming it into her side with every ounce of his strength.

The blow knocked her off her feet and Spike reversed the swing immediately, bringing the pole around and down in a hum of displaced air to hammer against her body before she could get back to her feet.

Her shrill protests rang in his ears but he ignored them, bringing the metal pole down again. He just had to keep her off-balance for another minute, giving Xander the time he needed to get out of the building. 

His fourth blow with the pole proved his undoing as she reached up and grabbed it, stopping the blow in mid-air and, as Spike reflexively jerked back, trying to tug it out of her hand, she used the motion to pull herself upright. 

“Ok, this is getting boring and now I have to chase down my monk. You’ll have to teach your human that it’s rude to take things that don’t belong to him.” She yanked the pole out of Spike’s hands and as he stumbled for a second, off-balance, she caught him with a punch to his face that sent pain exploding through his jaw as he went sailing backwards across the room in what was becoming an annoyingly familiar feeling. 

She was there as he landed, hauling him up and driving a fist into his stomach that doubled him over and felt like it had literally gone right though him. 

“Better yet. Maybe I’ll teach him to show some respect since you’ve obviously fallen down on the job.”

Fear shot through him and he snarled in fury, surging up in her grip and grappling with her, spinning them both around to crash with stunning force into one of the concrete pillars supporting the roof. Despite her gasp of pain, she clung to his arms and spun them back around, slamming him into the pillar instead. 

Taking a half step back, she aimed a punch at his head that he ducked at the last second. She cursed in annoyance as her fist dug into the concrete, pulling it out and throwing another punch immediately. This time, her fist chipped the corner off the pillar as he ducked again and Spike braced himself, using the pillar to support his weight as he brought both legs up and into her stomach, half kicking-half shoving her away with enough force to stagger her backwards away from him, tearing her grip free of his shirt.

He followed up instantly with another kick to her gut, putting everything he had into it, and she staggered back again as the kick landed. She recovered almost immediately, blocking his next kick and throwing a punch that caught him in the center of the chest.

“I just want you to know, this is valuable time out of life that I’m never gonna get back,” she told him as, once again, the force of her blow threw him across the room. She wasn’t even breathing hard and none of his efforts had injured her in the slightest.

Only the thought of what she would do to Xander got him back to his feet before she reached him. He aimed a vicious kick at her ankle, hoping desperately the joint would be a weak point but she stomped on his leg, pinning it to the floor before the kick landed and a scream burst out of him as her stiletto heel drove straight though his calf. Pain lanced through him, nova-bright and almost as devastating. 

“Now look what you’ve done. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get blood out of designer shoes?” she asked petulantly. She yanked her shoe free of his leg and bent her leg to examine the bloody heel distastefully.

Time to go. Spike scrambled unsteadily to his feet and ran, pain shooting up his leg with every step. He knew he’d never make the stairs but the window only a few feet away and, without the slightest hesitation, he dove through the third story window, hearing her angry shout behind him as he abandoned the fight.

Twisting in mid-air, Spike tried to flip himself around so he landed on his feet. The ground rushed up too fast and he only made it partway around. Pain sliced through him as he hit, bones snapping under the impact, his head thudding down on the concrete, completely unprotected. 

Everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander didn’t know how he managed to half-drag/half-carry the monk down the stairs without finishing the job the crazy lady upstairs had obviously started. To make matters worse, the guy insisted on talking to him as they puffed and groaned their way down to the ground floor.

“My journey’s done, I think,” the monk said faintly, gasping as Xander misjudged a step and landed hard, jarring him badly. They were the first words Xander had heard him speak and it was obvious it cost the man to say even that much. His breathing was quick and painfully shallow and he turned his head slightly to squint painfully at Xander through bruised and swollen eyelids.

“You’ll be ok, we’ll get you out of here and to a hospital,” Xander told him, trying to adjust his grip, but unable to find anyplace that didn‘t cause the injured man to flinch.

The monk ignored his hollow reassurance. “I have seen you. You are close to the key.”

He had a faint accent, not Spanish, maybe Russian or something, and it was obvious English wasn’t his first language. Xander assumed he’d gotten the word wrong but this wasn’t a good time to talk. “Sure, whatever. C’mon guy, focus on getting out of here.”

They descended painfully slowly, step-by-step. Xander was trying to move as quickly as he could, hearing the sounds of fighting behind him and acutely aware that Spike was buying him the time he needed to get away. Spike wouldn’t leave until Xander was safe and that made Xander struggle to move as rapidly as possibly, even if it cost the man he was carrying more pain.

“Sorry, but we need to get out of here.” He threw a quick glance behind them as they reached the landing, hoping to see Spike running down the stairs after them. 

“Must protect.”

He had no idea what the guy was talking about and no time to figure it out. “Absolutely, protecting is good,” he said distractedly.

“The Slayer must protect.”

Surprised, Xander spared a quick glance at the battered monk, wondering how he knew Buffy. “You know her?” he couldn’t help asking as they struggled down the last few steps.

“Sent here…” He broke off with a cry of pain as Xander was forced to stop and hoist him higher, then continued as they reached the bottom step and headed in a rapid shuffle towards the door leading outside. “Was supposed to warn…”

Xander felt a surge of relief as they reached the exterior door and stepped through it into the cool darkness outside. He turned back for one second, wondering if he should call back up to Spike, but decided against it, hearing the distant sounds of the fight still raging above him. Spike would be able to tell he was clear and disengage. Yelling might distract him at a crucial moment.

“She must protect… The key.”

Pulling the monk with him, Xander set off across the empty lot, wanting to get as far away from the crazy lady as possible. “I don’t understand,” he told the monk. 

“The key. Many more die if she doesn’t keep it safe.”

Xander stopped walking, the monk sagging in his grip, and looked around. They were only about 10 feet from the door but the monk wasn’t even trying to help anymore. He was too fixated on explaining something that Xander just wasn’t getting. “The Dagon Sphere?” he asked hesitantly. “Is that what you mean? Did you leave it here for Buffy?” 

The monk shook his head fractionally. “The Key is energy. A portal. It opens the door…” He coughed, and drops of bright red blood spattered the front of his robe. Alarmed, Xander interrupted his rambling explanation.

“Ok, we’re getting you to a hospital,” he said firmly. He tried to push forward but the monk’s legs folded under him and he slid to the ground despite Xander’s efforts. Xander bent over him and the monk clutched his arm in a surprisingly strong grip, his half-closed eyes burning into Xander’s as he struggled to speak.

“For centuries we guarded it. Then the abomination found us. We had to hide the key. Gave it form. Molded it flesh... Made it human and sent it to the Slayer.”

Xander shook his head, baffled, not understanding what the man was trying to tell him.

“We knew the Slayer would protect… if the key was family.”

“What?! Are you saying that Dawn? Or Joyce? No, they’re not some energy-thing.” Xander jerked back in shock but the monk clung to Xander’s arm with a death grip, looking at him with desperate eyes.

“Human now. And helpless. Please…” The monk’s voice was barely audible now. He coughed again and more blood came up. He rallied for one last moment, staring blindly at Xander through eyes that were glazing over. “She is an innocent in this. Her sister must protect...”

“Dawn?” Xander whispered, horrified and disbelieving, not knowing what to think. It was impossible to accept, yet equally impossible to doubt this man who had struggled through such agony to impart information he obviously considered worth dying for.

The monk nodded, his grip finally slackening as his eyes closed and his body fell back bonelessly. The quiet sound of his last, long exhalation was broken by the crash of breaking glass. Xander ducked, instinctively shielding the monk’s body beneath his own as glass rained down on them from above. There was a scream of fury from the upstairs window and the thud of a body landing on the ground nearby and Xander started to turn but then flung himself flat again, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his head in his arms as glass shards rained down around them, smashing into fragments on the pavement and landing with stinging force on his back and arms. 

The clamor died away after a moment and everything was deathly quiet in contrast. Xander moved gingerly, trying to shake the splinters of glass off himself without getting cut any worse than he already had. He’d barely begun to move when there was an all-too- familiar rumbling.

Earthquake!

Swearing, he jerked upright, ignoring the glass around him as he pushed himself to his feet. He looked around wildly and his heart sank as he saw Spike lying motionless on the ground not far away. The building rumbled again and he realized it wasn’t an earthquake, the building was collapsing. 

Forgetting everything else, he ran to Spike, who’d landed far enough out from the building that he was clear of most of the glass, and dropped beside him, turning him over with careful hands. 

He wasn’t dust, so he was still alive, Xander told himself feverishly. But he was bleeding heavily and looked like he’d been used as a punching bag. His left arm was bent at an impossible angle and blood was already beginning to pool under one of his legs. 

Worriedly, he looked up at the collapsing building and saw to his relief that the exterior walls were holding. From the sounds and the dust pouring out of the shattered window, parts of the interior were collapsing but it wouldn’t endanger them out here.

He bit his lip and glanced between Spike and the monk. He was pretty sure the monk was dead, and Spike wasn’t. In any case, he knew where his priorities were. Xander reached up to pull his shirt off and winced in surprise at the sharp bite of pain as his fingers closed on the cloth. Looking down at himself, he cursed violently. There were tiny fragments of glass all over him. There was no way he could use anything he was wearing as bandages.

Xander got to his feet and pulled Spike up with him, heaving the vampire over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, regardless of how he jostled his injuries. He had to get Spike away from here, somewhere safe and get blood in him. 

He staggered a moment, then caught himself and began walking, heading for the car. Despite the fact they were only a few blocks from the apartment, they’d driven here, intending to drive to the Summers’ house to check on Joyce after investigating the factory where Buffy had found the Dagon Sphere. 

Thanking whatever gods looked after wayward vampires that Spike was smaller than him, Xander let out a breath of half-hysterical laughter. “Probably nothing.” That’s what he’d told Spike they’d find when they came here to check this place out.


	11. Chapter 11

He hated driving the DeSoto at night. The blacked out windows made visibility almost non-existent and the small clear spot in the windshield was fine for vampire vision but completely inadequate for humans. Xander was steering mostly by sticking his head out of the rolled down side window and that made for awkward turns and slow progress when he wanted nothing more than to grind the accelerator into the floorboards in his need to get Spike to the mansion as quickly as possible.

Even as he’d settled Spike’s unconscious body into the back seat, he’d already ruled out returning to the apartment, despite it being only a few blocks away. It was too risky. If even one minion saw him carrying Spike up the outside stairs, word would be all over the court in minutes that Spike was injured and helpless.

No, Angel’s mansion, their emergency bolt-hole, was the best option. There was blood in the freezer, kept there just for emergencies like this and vampires simply didn’t hang out in the neighborhood. Between the lack of tunnel access, the good street lighting, and the lack of any bars or cemeteries, there was nothing the area had to offer vampires.

He’d made himself take a few extra seconds to run back and check on the monk. As he’d thought, the man was dead and Xander had simply abandoned the body where it lay, not willing to take the time to deal with it and really not wanting to call the police. Buffy had said something about a security guard, they’d have to deal with it. 

A crashing sound from the building made him whirl around, heart pounding in his chest, but there was no sign of the woman. Just more pieces of the of the building falling, he told himself, but he wasn’t going to stick around to check.

Starting the DeSoto’s engine and pulling out for the drive to the mansion, Xander had forced himself to focus only on getting Spike to shelter. He shoved the monk’s crazy talk about Dawn to the back of his mind to think about later. He simply didn’t have the ability to deal with it right now - he had enough problems worrying about how he was going to get an unconscious vampire to drink blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pain woke Spike. It was pulsing throughout his entire body, exacerbated by the fact that someone was shaking him and yelling at him. He growled but it was a weak, half-hearted effort and just caused the yeller to redouble their efforts.

Reluctantly opening his eyes, Spike found himself staring into Xander’s familiar brown eyes, dark with worry as they looked back at him. 

The minute Xander saw he was awake, he let off his insistent shaking and pressed a mug to his lips. Spike swallowed greedily, drinking steadily until the mug was empty, and waited impatiently as Xander immediately tore open another bag of blood and re-filled it.

The familiar ding of a microwave sounded in the distance and he knew that Xander had more blood heating. The blood had the flat sterility that came from being frozen and reheated, but the warmth was spreading through his body already, filling his veins and quieting the throbbing pain to bearable levels.

After he’d finished the third mug, Xander left him briefly, crossing the room and taking more bags out of the microwave. He carried them back to where Spike lay on the floor and knelt beside him again. 

Already feeling a little stronger, Spike glanced around and saw they were in the mansion.  
Trust Xander to use his head even in a crisis. He opened his mouth to speak and Xander just gave him a stern look, pushing the mug at him again.

“No, don’t try and hold it, your arm’s broken,” Xander told him sharply.

Spike nodded and drank the blood thirstily. Xander watched him carefully as he finished the mug and took his time pouring the next one. 

“Spike, do we need to - I don’t know - set your arm or something before you get too much blood in you? It’s not going to heal wrong is it?”

Good question. He glanced down at his left arm and then closed his eyes, feeling what his body was telling him about the injury. He suspected that Xander had already straightened the bones after they’d broken, but they weren’t quite back in the right place. The break would still heal but the healing would go faster if the bones were properly aligned.

“Could use a little tweak, at that,” he said, opening his eyes and looking at Xander. “You up for it, luv?” 

Xander nodded grimly. “What do I do?”

Following Spike’s instructions, Xander pulled and tugged the bones back into position, looking white-faced and ill, but not faltering for even a second as he did what was necessary. Spike gritted his teeth against the pain, grateful beyond words that Xander was someone he could rely on like this. Xander not only would do anything for Spike, he would get it right. He understood about both Spike’s resilience and the ways his position as Master of the Territory made him vulnerable. Which meant that Xander knew enough not to take him anywhere near the Court when Spike was wounded and was ruthless enough to shake and slap his wounded lover for the length of time it took to bring a vampire out of a healing coma to get blood inside him. 

After drinking two more mugs, Spike lay back and assessed the damage. Broken arm and ribs - thankfully the ribs weren’t displaced. Fucking great hole in his calf from the bitch’s shoe, and cuts and bruises all over, particularly his face. The blood he’d drunk was already working to heal the injuries but they were more serious than the usual run of minor bruises that healed within a few hours. Be at least a day and maybe two before he would heal enough to let the Court see him, he thought in irritation. 

Sleep was stealing over him and he fought it long enough to give Xander a run-down on the damage, seeing his boy’s relief at his estimate that he would be up and around within a day. Xander assured him he wasn’t injured and Spike’s check verified that. Except for minor cuts from broken glass, bits of which still sparkled in his hair and on his shirt, Xander appeared fine and he moved back and forth from floor to counter without difficulty. 

Reassured, he let the healing sleep take him, knowing Xander would keep him safe while sleep and blood worked their magic on his battered body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Giles, is there any chance there’s more than one Slayer?” Xander asked as soon as Giles picked up the phone.

He knew Giles was waiting for a report from them and must already have been wondering why he hadn’t called earlier. Spike was in full healing-sleep and wouldn’t wake for anything less than physical violence, so Xander called Giles at home as soon as he’d gotten Spike settled in the basement bedroom. Well, right after he’d stripped and showered the last of the glass fragments off of himself anyway.

“What? Of course not. A new Slayer is never called until the old Slayer dies and I can assure you that Buffy is fine.”

“Nothing ever goes wrong with the ‘one girl in all the world’ thing?”

“Xander, what’s going on?”

“Someone who looks like a normal human girl just beat the crap out of Spike.”

“Is he alright?” Xander was grateful for the genuine concern in Giles’ voice. 

“He’ll live but he’s badly hurt.” He looked down at Spike’s battered frame on the bed beside him. The blood he’d drunk was already doing its work but it would be days before he was completely healed.

“And it was someone who looked human?”

“Completely. Picture a psychotic combination of Buffy and… and Cordelia Chase.” Maybe it was just the clothes, but something about the woman had reminded him of Queen C. 

He could almost see Giles’ eyebrows rise in the short pause that followed that description. “Could Spike sense anything demonic about this person?”

“I don’t know, we didn’t have much of a chance to talk about what happened. I can ask him when he wakes up.” 

“Where are you? Do you need help?”

“Thanks, Giles. It’s covered. We’re at the mansion. I got a bunch of blood in him and he’s doing his vampire healing-sleep thing.”

“Xander, you didn’t…”

“Relax. We keep an emergency blood supply in the freezer here. I may need you to make a supply run tomorrow for me, but I hope not.”

“Anything you need, just call.” Giles cleared his throat. “Xander, I’m sorry to ask, but what happened to the woman?”

“Not really sure. The building collapsed just after Spike got out and I don’t know if she got out or not. She didn’t follow us, that much I know.”

“Maybe she was killed in the collapse.”

“I hope so,” Xander said grimly. 

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea it would be so dangerous. Did… did you find anything about the Dagon Sphere?”

“Not really,” Xander said, mostly truthfully. “She didn’t exactly look like an ancient anything, Giles. Just a 25year old bimbo with Slayer-level strength.”

“I’ll see if I can find out anything,” Giles said dubiously, “but I can assure you that it cannot be another Slayer. That’s simply not possible.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s stronger than a Slayer, to be honest. Buffy’s gotten a lot stronger in the last year, but she and Spike are still pretty evenly matched. I don’t think she could do this kind of damage to him in a straight out fight. That woman threw him nearly 50 feet across a room without batting an eye, Giles. I don’t think Buffy could do that.”

Giles didn’t answer right away and his voice was grim when he did speak. “I’m inclined to agree. We’ll just have to hope she died when the building collapsed.”

Xander hung up not long after that, Giles promising to see if he could find any reference to a superstrong woman, but it was obvious he didn’t expect to find anything. Actually, Xander would be astonished if he did, there simply wasn’t enough to go on. But Giles’ answer to everything was to research and he had made some pretty extraordinary deductions from very little information in the past. He felt guilty for not telling Giles about the monk and what he’d said about Dawn and the key, but he wasn’t sure what he was going to do about that yet and he desperately needed to think about it first. 

In the quiet hours that followed, he sat next to Spike, one hand idly stroking Spike’s hair as he stared blindly into the darkness, lost in his whirling thoughts about what the monk had told him.

He turned the snippets of information over and over in his head, trying to understand them, looking for anything to would shed light on their meaning. The monk had called Dawn a ‘key’. The Key. The Key had been energy and the monk and his friends had turned it into a person - Dawn.

How was that possible?

This was Dawn. He’d known her for - what? Three years now? His memories of the young girl who complained about her big sister, who talked to him while he was working on the Summers’ house, sharing her feeling about school and her friends, who’d forced him to read the Harry Potter books to her, who giggled in Spike’s face when he tried to scare her, and listened avidly to Spike’s bloodthirsty stories of his past, couldn’t be fake. Maybe the monk, or his friends, had created Dawn years ago, and his memories had actually happened.

He hated people messing with his mind like this. Bad enough when Willow had tampered with his memories, but these guys had apparently done it on a town-wide scale. With a sigh, he forced himself to set that part of it aside, recognizing he was touchy on the subject and the right or wrong of what the monks had done really wasn’t the issue right now. 

The monk had said that the Key had to be protected, that a lot of people would die if it wasn’t. Protected from what?

That was a no brainer. Protected from the crazy woman with Slayer strength and a yen for torture. If the monk was charged with hiding and protecting the Key, it was obvious the woman must have been trying to torture the information out of him.

Which brought him right back to the fact that the guy had to have been telling the truth about Dawn. You didn’t hold up under that kind of abuse unless the consequences of talking were serious. Unless what you were hiding was worth dying for.

Which meant that Dawn - wasn’t Dawn. 

She wasn’t the bright, funny, annoying kid sister to the Slayer he’d thought he knew, but something Hellmouthy and unnatural.

The monk had said she was human now. And innocent. She didn’t know she was anything but Dawn Summers, 8th grader and younger daughter of Joyce, Buffy’s kid sister.

Oh, god. This would kill Buffy and Joyce. They’d never believe him. And how was he supposed to tell them anyway? ‘Oh, by the way, your sister isn’t real’ ‘Guess what, Joyce? Dawn isn’t really your daughter’. 

How could he do that to any of them? But did they have a right to know? 

Did Dawn?

That was a conversation he couldn’t even imagine. It would destroy Dawn, if she even believed him. And why would she believe him? The whole idea she wasn’t a real person was insane.

At some point during the long hours of the night, he thought about asking Mr. Olsen what to do. He’d never gone wrong listening to the old man’s advice. Mr. Olsen knew about hiding a demon side and how hard it was to ‘come out’ to people who didn’t know. But he’d reluctantly abandoned the idea. This was different from learning you had demon ancestors in your family. This was learning you weren’t a real person, that every memory you had was false, that you been made up by a group of strangers. It wasn’t the same, and he couldn’t expose her like that. Couldn’t risk Mr. Olsen’s life, if the woman intended to torture her way through town looking for her hidden Key.

The monk had said he was sent here. That he was supposed to warn someone. Warn Buffy? Tell her what had been done to her life and her memories? What had been put inside her house? Or just that someone was hunting her kid sister? And what excuse did he have for why someone would be hunting Dawn? Xander wished there’d been more time, that the monk had been able to tell him more.

He was no closer to knowing what to do than he’d been hours earlier. He couldn’t tell anyone and he couldn’t NOT tell anyone. 

Giles and Tara were researching the Dagon Sphere. Giles was going to try and figure out who the woman was. How could he withhold information that might be critical? Would Buffy accept that Dawn was in danger if couldn’t point to a reason for that danger? What if Dawn got hurt because Buffy didn’t know she had to protect more than she always had? Dawn wasn’t just in the same danger that everyone in Sunnydale was, she had a specific enemy. Someone looking for her and willing to torture people to find her. 

He didn’t know what to do and he couldn’t help wishing that the monk had shared this information with someone, anyone else. Someone who would how to handle this. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike’s first thought was that Xander looked like he hadn’t slept at all. He smiled at Spike as he opened his eyes, but he looked exhausted and troubled, and his eyes didn’t quite meet Spike’s as he asked how he was feeling.

He vaguely remembered being woken up once already, sometime in the middle of the night, to feed. This time, it was well after sunrise - mid-morning by the feel of it - which meant he’d had over 12 hours of healing sleep and the pain was nearly gone.

Xander had woken him again and had heated several bags of blood. Spike drank automatically, his focus internal as he tested his injuries to see how they were progressing.

Mostly he was pleased. His ribs and arm were healing nicely, the bruises on his face were improving, although slower than he was used to. To his relief, the swelling around his eyes had gone down and he could see clearly. The least healed of his injuries was his leg, where the bitch had driven her 3-inch heel straight through the muscle of his calf. Holes always took longer because his body had to replace lost tissue with new. Broken bones were much easier. 

He drank four bags of blood, then stopped Xander from getting any more. His body felt almost saturated with the warmth and healing power of human blood and his improved condition was due largely to how much he’d already drunk. The worst was over and he could focus on Xander.

Something was wrong. Xander smelled both nervous and worried, way beyond what he should - it wasn’t like they hadn’t been through this before. Spike caught his hand, tugging it towards himself as Xander made a move to pick up the litter of empty bags and dirty ceramic mug.

“Xander, what’s wrong?”

Xander gave him a quick, bright smile that came nowhere near his eyes. “Just worried about you, Spike,” he said. “And kind of tired.”

“Sat up with me all night, did you.” It wasn’t really a question, he could tell that Xander hadn’t slept at all. “I’ll be fine by tomorrow, luv. Nothin’ to worry about.”

“I know. It’s just…”

“Just what?” he prompted when Xander didn’t finish.

“Nothing.”

Spike frowned. Xander was avoiding his eyes, looking down at their joined hands and fiddling with Spike’s fingers. 

“Spike, do you have any idea of who that was?”

Reluctantly, he went along with the change in subject. For now. “Dunno, luv. Smelled human.”

Xander lifted his head. “But she can’t be - right? I mean, no human could do this to you.”

“Damn right they couldn’t,” Spike agreed. “‘Less they had something giving them ten times their usual strength.” He scowled, considering that. “Didn’t get a sense they were using mojo, but I supposed it’s possible. I just know if she was a demon, she’s hiding it well.”

“Could she be a Slayer?”

“Somethin’ happen to the one we already got?” Spike raised his eyebrow, wondering where that idea had come from.

Xander sighed. “That’s pretty much what Giles said - she can’t be a Slayer because Buffy is fine.”

“I’d know anyway. Can sense a Slayer. That woman didn’t have the tingle.” Damnit, he was tired already. Healing always took a lot of energy out of him. And getting Xander to talk when he wasn’t ready took a lot of effort. Finding out what was bothering him would have to wait for now. 

Probably nothing serious, he told himself. Xander was always fretting about things that didn’t matter. Worrying about not saving the monk, or some such, probably, even though the man had been dead meat before they even got there. “You done good, luv,” he said, squeezing Xander’s hand reassuringly, then let himself drop back into sleep once more. He’d find out what was troubling his boy when he woke.


	12. Chapter 12

Xander sat beside Spike as the vampire fell back to sleep again. Spike was already looking better and he fervently thanked whoever made the rules that vampires healed so quickly. The deep bruising and swelling on his face had gone down enough that Spike could open his eyes and no longer had to squint through puffy slits. The fact that the bruising was still present spoke volumes about the strength of the woman who’d beaten him. It took a lot to give Spike those kind of bruises. Off hand, Xander couldn’t remember a previous fight that had left Spike looking like he’d gone ten rounds with Muhammad Ali. 

He smiled, knowing what Spike would say to that comparison - that Ali wouldn’t have been able to touch him, much less be able to do any damage. He could almost hear Spike bragging about how he would have been snacking on the heavyweight champion before the audience had time to take their first bite of popcorn.

The smile faltered and he sighed. Spike already sensed that he wasn’t telling him something and, knowing Spike, he was going to be pushing for Xander to talk the second he woke up again. And he still had no clue what to do, or who to tell, or how much.

Out of all of them, Dawn had the most right to know what the monk had said. And there were just as many, if not more, good reasons why she should never be told. Buffy and Joyce were as much victims of this whole mess as Dawn. The monks had not only made them guardians of something that, if not dangerous itself, at least attracted danger. They’d messed with their memories in the most cold-blooded way Xander could conceive of: convincing them that the changeling that had been planted in their home was their own flesh and blood. 

He couldn’t tell Giles, because Giles thought of Buffy first, and probably keeping the world safe as a close second, and Xander didn’t know how he’d react to the idea that Dawn was a powerful, dangerous thing, not a person. Giles had a streak of ruthlessness in him that might allow him to hurt Dawn if he saw her as a threat to the Slayer he’d sworn to protect.

It was hardest to decide whether he could tell Spike. Not because he didn’t trust Spike, but because Spike simply didn’t think the way humans did. He would never intentionally do anything to hurt Dawn, or Joyce, but he didn’t always understand human angst and insecurities. He remembered the way Spike had blurted out the news to Joyce that Buffy was the Slayer. Granted, Spike hadn’t really known Joyce then, but he simply hadn’t seen telling her as a problem, or something that needed to be handled delicately. Joyce had ultimately taken it better than either of them had had any right to expect, but it had been a close thing. If Spike decided that Dawn should know what she was, he’d just tell her, regardless of what anyone else thought. And maybe telling Dawn was the right thing to do, but Xander couldn’t help thinking that it would tear her apart in a way she might never recover from.

Of course, lying to Spike wasn’t a great option, either. Relationship issues aside, he probably wouldn’t be able to get away with it. Damn vampire lie detector abilities would catch him out immediately.

Before he could make up his mind about what to do, he needed a lot more information than he had right now. About the Key, about the Dagon Sphere, and even about the woman who was probably connected with both of them. 

And that gave him the first useful idea he’d had all night. If there was one person in town more likely than anyone else to know about an “ancient primordial evil”, it would be Mr. Okolo, the nearly-immortal, half-Teer’ah demon.

Decision finally made, Xander checked the time. It was barely noon and Spike would be safe, holed up here in the mansion during daylight hours. Xander could leave, pick up a fresh supply of blood, talk to Mr. Okolo, and be back well before sunset.

Scribbling a quick note just in case Spike woke before he returned, Xander propped it up on the table beside the bed and headed out of the mansion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty minutes later, Xander climbed the front steps to the suburban house and knocked on the door, feeling a little guilty because he’d never come here directly before. It seemed rude somehow, like he was flouting necessary formalities by not calling ahead and arranging an audience. But this was an emergency and besides, the fewer people who knew he was asking questions, the better.

After a long moment, the door opened in response to his knock and Xander found himself face to face with Mr. Okolo. “Mr. Harris,” he said in greeting, his face showing no sign of surprise at the unexpected visit. 

“Hi, Mr. Okolo. I’m really sorry to just drop by like this, but I could really use your help.”

“Please come in.” Mr. Okolo inclined his head in welcome and pushed the door open further, gesturing for Xander to come inside. The tall, slender demon led Xander into the living room and apologized for not having refreshments ready for him. As he had on the other occasions he’d met Mr. Okolo, Xander found himself talking more slowly and formally than he usually did, assuring him that no refreshments were needed, especially when he’d been so discourteous himself as to show up without warning. Something about the half-Teer’ah just seemed to call for the manners of an earlier time - like the Jane Austen movie Dawn had dragged him to once. 

And that comparison distracted him completely, making him wonder if he’d really seen the movie because Spike and he sure as hell wouldn’t have gone to see an old fashioned romance without a spot of blood in the entire thing. And that just made his head ache as his mind tried to cope with the paradoxes inherent in the idea that everything he remembered doing with Dawn wasn’t real. How could he remember the plot of a movie he hadn’t ever actually seen? 

He really hated people messing with his mind like this.

Mr. Okolo was waiting for him to speak, hands folded together and an air of limitless patience about him as if he could wait for decades if that was what his guest needed. Xander gave himself a shake, once again pushing aside his confusion and worry, and forced himself to focus on why he was hear. 

“Mr. Okolo,” he began picking his words carefully. “I learned about something last night that may have implications for the whole town, and I wanted to ask if you had any information about it.”

He explained about Buffy finding the Dagon Sphere, and about the woman and the monk, and the monk’s cryptic words about a Key that was energy and a portal, that it opened doors, and how many lives depended on keeping the Key safe. He admitted frankly that he was worried about anyone finding out they were trying to find out information about the Key. The only thing he left out was Dawn, and that the monk had said that they’d transformed the Key into a human being.

“Mr. Giles researched the Dagon Sphere,” he concluded, “but all he’s learned so far is that it’s designed to protect against an ancient primordial evil. Frankly, after the Mayor and the Initiative, I don’t think this town is up for another one of those. I’m hoping you might have heard something that could help us figure out what’s going on.” 

Mr. Okolo was silent for a long moment, considering his words, then shook his head slightly. “I do not recall having heard of either the Dagon Sphere or a mystical Key, such as you describe but it may be that my family has heard of it. I agree that the matter is something that should not be ignored and will ask them to look into this for us.”

He rose, signaling the end of their conversation. “If you return in two days, I will be able to tell you if my family knows anything. I assure you, except for my family, I will treat this as confidential.”

Xander thanked him profusely and left, feeling a little better that he’d at least set things in motion to find some answers. Knowing what the Key was and what it was for would hopefully make it easier to decide if anyone had to know about Dawn or if he could keep it secret. And if Mr. Okolo stumbled over the information about Dawn, Xander trusted him not to spread it around.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander had been playing with the first aid kit again, Spike discovered when he woke up towards sunset. Sometime while he’d been asleep, Xander had bandaged his calf, covering the hole that was still nearly through and through from the feel of it. He’d also wrapped a light, supporting bandage around Spike’s forearm, apparently with the idea that the nearly-healed break needed the support. 

It was actually kind of cute the way he fussed over Spike when he was hurt and Spike wasn’t about to admit it, but the bandage on his arm would help remind him that the bone wouldn’t be a strong as normal for another day or two. He’d once re-broken an arm because he’d forgotten that same fact and gotten into a bar fight with a N’reltekk before he was fully healed. He won the fight, but it had been annoying to have to wait for the bone to heal a second time in the same week.

“Hey.”

He looked up at the quiet greeting and saw Xander standing in the doorway, smiling at him.

“You’re awake.” 

“And you’ve been out wandering,” Spike noted.

“Mmm. Got some more blood,” Xander told him. “It’s fresh, do you want some?”

“Wouldn’t say no to fresh,” Spike admitted. Before Xander could move, he threw back the sheet and sat up, swinging his legs around and standing. 

“Are you sure you’re up to that?” Xander asked him. Spike gave him a reassuring smile. 

“Nearly good as new, luv.” 

An exaggeration, not a lie, he told himself. He could still feel every place on his body where that bitch had hit him; a distant throbbing of pain that he refused to acknowledge or cater to. The swelling had gone down faster than the bruises were fading, and Spike scowled, sensing the still visible damage as he did. He was going to have to come up with a story for the Court, that was for sure. No way was he going to admit he’d had his arse kicked by a skank like that one.

He followed Xander up the stairs to the kitchen, having to favor his injured leg slightly but otherwise able to conceal his discomfort from his sharp-eyed lover. Grateful for fresh blood, not re-heated frozen, he drank three bags while Xander sat across from him, watching him with frowning intensity. 

Tossing the last bag into the sink, Spike asked him bluntly: “What aren’t you tellin’ me, luv?”

“The monk talked to me before he died,” Xander admitted. “A lot of what he tried to tell me didn’t make sense, but he kept talking about a Key and that it needed to be protected. He said a lot of people would die if it wasn’t kept safe.” He repeated the monk’s words, struggling to recall them as accurately as he could. “I think he was sending the Key to Buffy, because she’s the Slayer and the best person they could find to protect it, but he died before he could say much more than that.” 

“Lot of things’ve gotten lost because someone died before passin’ on the secret,” Spike commented, watching Xander closely. “Slayer know anything about this?”

Xander shook his head. “I don’t think so. The monk said he was supposed to do something. Warn Buffy, I think. But it didn’t sound like he had done it.” He looked away for a moment, then back at Spike. “I went to see Mr. Okolo this afternoon. He hadn’t heard of either the Key or the Dagon Sphere, but he’s going to ask his family.” 

Spike raised his scarred eyebrow in surprise. “Why go to him?” he asked curiously.

“I told you what Giles said about the Dagon Sphere, didn’t I? Created to repel an ancient evil, and all that?”

“So you figured an ancient demon might know about the ancient evil.” That made sense. “Good thinking. He able to tell you anything?”

“No, but he’s going to ask his family and let us know if they’ve heard anything about any of this, including the crazy lady.” 

Spike watched his Claimed with intent eyes. He had the feeling Xander wasn’t telling him everything. He wasn’t lying - Xander never had learned how to lie without giving himself away - but he wasn’t above holding things back, especially when he thought it was in Spike’s best interest in some way. He considered pressing Xander on the issue, but decided to let it go for now. His boy was exhausted and it might be nothing more than him feeling guilty about not saving the monk, or some such rot. His boy had gotten better about not fretting over things that didn’t matter and couldn’t be changed, but he still spent way too much time feeling guilty about things.

“Spike?” Xander’s question snapped him back to the present.

“Yeah, luv?”

“Giles wanted to ask you about the woman. Are you up for it?”

Spike rolled his eyes. That was the problem with working with a Watcher. They always wanted reports. He hated discussing fights he hadn’t won but it looked like this time he would have to. “Tonight,” he said firmly. “After you get some sleep.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Giles winced as he saw the bruises still liberally coloring Spike’s face. “Spike, I’m terribly sorry. I had no idea that investigating that building would be so dangerous or I would never have asked you to go so casually.” 

Spike shrugged, amused by the Watcher’s squeamishness. Xander had argued with him the whole way over to the magic shop that Spike should stay holed up at the mansion for another day. That he should just call Giles and didn’t have to report in person, but there was no reason for him to lie around Angelus’ mansion. 

Despite having more or less appropriated the mansion from Angelus, staying there still felt uncomfortable. Somehow, the house remained stubbornly his Sire’s, no matter how many changes Spike made to it. Now that he and Xander were using the magic shop to work out, they rarely used the mansion and it felt even more like he was staying in his Sire’s territory. In any case, the mansion was for emergencies. It had been almost 24 hours since he’d been injured and he was itching to know if the Watcher had learned anything about his opponent. He owed her a rematch.

“Nothing to worry about, Rupert. Been hurt worse for less reason,” was all he said, deliberately making light of his wounds. 

Giles looked a trifle taken aback, either by Spike’s casual dismissal of his injuries or the rare use of his first name. “Yes,” he said, obviously not quite sure how to respond. “What can you tell me about the woman who attacked you?” he asked instead. “I’m afraid Xander’s description was too vague to be useful.”

“Not much. Lousy fighter, attitude like a cheerleader on a bad acid trip.”

Even Xander looked at him curiously at that description.

“Good enough fighter to kick your arse, though,” Ethan Rayne commented. Spike glared at him, pleased to see the Chaos Mage wince and step back as he did. He might have given the man permission to be in town, but he hadn’t given him permission to get mouthy with his betters.

“Had no more fighting skills than you’d find in a schoolyard bully,” he said flatly to the Watcher. “What she has is power. She’s strong and, near as I could tell, nothing I did harmed her at all. Bitch spent more time complaining about damage to her shoe than anything else I did to her.” He glanced around at the circle of blank faces and rolled his eyes. “She got blood on it when she skewered me with her heel,” he explained.

He could see the others working through the implications of that. “How strong would you estimate she is?” Rupert asked.

“Least two-three times my strength,” Spike admitted. “Maybe more. Still,” he added cheerfully, he’d been thinking about this longingly as Xander had caught up on desperately needed sleep. “Didn’t have weapons with me. A good axe might even things up a bit. Can’t hit much if your arm’s been chopped off.”

The blonde witch looked faintly sick but didn’t say anything. She’d need to toughen up a bit if she was going to survive in this town, Spike thought, amused.

“Xander said the building collapsed,” the Watcher asked and Spike nodded. 

“We did a bit of damage to the support columns, that might have caused it. She kept punching them instead of me,” he remembered with satisfaction.

He could tell that that description gave them an idea of what they were dealing with. No Slayer could bring down a building just by punching through a concrete column. Admittedly, no vampire could do that either, but this woman was going to take something more than a straight-out fight to bring her down.

Rupert began prattling on about the research he’d done and how he’d gotten nowhere - big surprise there - while the others debated the meaning of it all. Waste of time, he thought, they didn’t have enough information to decide piss all. 

He listened carefully as Xander repeated the information about the Key for the Watcher’s benefit, listening to every nuance of his boy’s tone and studying his body language as he spoke. Xander was glossing over any questions about the location of the Key, hurrying on to the part where he’d asked the demon to help research the thing - Spike thoroughly approved his Claimed’s decision to go to the Teer’ah demon. If anyone knew anything, it was bound to be a family that had been around since the dawn of time. 

Xander was hiding something, something that was keeping his boy tense and shuttered, though he was hiding it well, and Spike felt a wave of anger sweep over him. From the sound of it, Xander knew where the damn Key was and, knowing Xander, had promised not to tell anyone. Spike cursed silently. Xander took that kind of thing so fucking seriously. Instead of letting them help him hide the bloody thing, he’d feel duty bound to keep his promise to the dying monk and deal with it on his own.

Screw that, Spike thought. He’d give Xander a day or two to come around, then he would explain to his Claimed exactly how stupid it was not to ask for help when he needed it.

If that bloody monk had given the fucking Key to Xander, he was going to find monk’s body, resurrect him, and torture him to death all over again just to show him how a real expert did things. 

~~~~~~~

Buffy came through the door of the magic shop, interrupting their fairly useless speculation about the woman and the Key - none of which had come anywhere near the truth, Xander was relieved to note. He’d ultimately decided he had to tell them the bare minimum facts, because it would look too suspicious if he didn’t and then had to broach the subject later, after Mr. Okolo had gotten back to him, for example. Still, Buffy’s arrival was a welcome change of subject.

She entered like a woman on a mission and swept them all with a quick glance. Other than Ethan, who she frowned at but otherwise ignored, it was just Xander, Spike and Tara in addition to Giles in the Magic Box. 

“Buffy, what are you doing here?” Giles asked. “You’re supposed to be taking the week off and spending it with your family.”

“I was, but something happened,” Buffy told him. “I have an idea about what’s making my mom sick.”

“Have you spoken with her doctors?” Giles asked.

Buffy shook her head impatiently. “They won’t find anything. What’s hurting her - it’s supernatural.”

“What do you mean?” Giles frowned and closed the journal he’d been jotting notes down in about the blonde woman. Xander exchanged glances with Spike, wondering what she was talking about. 

“The night watchman who found the Dagon Sphere?” Buffy looked around and they all nodded. “He went crazy - like overnight.”

Giles cast an uneasy glance at the drawer he’d stored the sphere in, which Buffy correctly interpreted. 

“It won’t hurt us. I had it on me all night before bringing it here. But this guy, he saw things... he said things.”

“Such as?” Giles prompted.

“He said they’ll come at me through my family.”

“Who will?” Giles asked.

Buffy hesitated. “I don’t know... yet. But whatever touched this guy, it made him see through what the rest of us are seeing. He knew someone’s hurting my mom and they’re trying to get to me.

“Ah, letting a crazy person diagnose health problems, there’s an idea. What was I thinking, going to doctors all these years,” Ethan muttered. Everyone ignored him except Buffy who shot him a hostile look.

“Was your mum there at the time?” Spike asked sharply.

Buffy shook her head. “No, I saw him at the hospital when I went to get mom’s prescription filled.”

Xander frowned at the mention of a prescription. He hadn’t heard that Joyce was taking anything. Granted, they’d never made it over to the house to check on her last night. He exchanged worried glances with Spike, resolving to ask Buffy about it as soon as they could.

Giles looked like he was trying to humor her without looking like he was humoring her. “It’s possible, but still... the ramblings of a madman aren’t much to go on.”

“It’s a start. We need to find out who’s making my mom sick and how.”

“Then what?” Xander couldn’t help asking. 

“Then I hunt them... find them... and kill them.”

Xander raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. Spike looked like he agreed wholeheartedly. Tara’s eyes widened and Ethan muttered something about paranoid adolescents but Xander noticed he pitched his voice low enough so neither Buffy or Giles could hear him. He had to admit, Ethan had a point this time, the whole thing sounded pretty farfetched, like Buffy was grasping at straws. On the other hand, this was the Hellmouth and anything was possible.

Buffy looked up at the book alcove overhead. “So, where do we start?” she asked.

“Start?”

“How do I figure out who’s doing what to my mother.” Buffy explained, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Giles looked absolutely blank. “Well, it would help if we had some idea where to begin. But without knowing either the spell, or the caster, or even if…” he didn’t finish the sentence but it was clear he was skeptical about the whole idea. 

Buffy looked around at the others but Xander just shrugged helplessly and Tara shook her head, indicating she had no ideas. 

“I wonder…” Giles began, sounding as if he was trying to recapture a half-forgotten memory. Buffy watched anxiously as he slowly removed his glasses and polished them with his handkerchief, his eyes on the far wall as he thought. After a long moment, he slipped his glasses back on and focused on Buffy. “The only thing that comes to mind would be some sort of spell to reveal other spells.”

“You can do that?” she asked eagerly.

“Well, I can’t, but historically the spells do exist.” He looked dubious. “It’s not an easy spell, only a handful of sorcerers have been able to do it. There was one in particular…”

“Cloutier,” Ethan supplied when Giles’ voice trailed off, “amazing powers and quite the ladies man. Very good with trances.” He smirked. “I wonder how frequently he used his skills to persuade a reluctant partner,” he added speculatively.

“You know him?” Buffy asked hopefully. “And - ewww.”

“Cloutier lived in the 16th Century,” Giles told her. “Ignore Ethan’s insinuations, Monsieur Cloutier was a devoted husband and an extremely well respected sorcerer.”

“Oh.” Buffy waved off the extraneous information. “How does the spell work?” 

“Well, all spells leave a trace signature. It’s just not perceptible to the human eye. Cloutier was able to put himself into a trance state where he was able to see that trace signature. In this case, for example, it could manifest itself as a cloud of mist around your mother.”

“Or a hand choking her.” 

Xander bristled at the relish in Ethan’s tone, even though he knew that Ethan did it just to annoy people. Still, this was Joyce they were talking about. 

Buffy looked determined. “Okay, so I’ll do what he did. I’ll go home, get trancey, and I’ll see what’s affecting my mom.

“Just like that?” Ethan asked, obviously amused. “You think you can just put yourself into a mystical trance state any time you want?”

“Yes, Buffy,” Giles agreed reluctantly. “The Sorcerer Cloutier was legendary. His skills at achieving higher states of consciousness were…”

“Better than mine?” Buffy interrupted him grimly. “Unless anyone has a better idea…” she glared at Ethan who held up his hands in denial. 

“Don’t look at me. Trances are for boring people who want to get in touch with themselves and all that rot. I have much better things to get in touch with than myself.” The look he shot Giles was pure leer. Giles ignored him.

“Giles, you’ve had me doing all those concentration drills. This is important, I’ll just make it work.” Buffy told him earnestly.

“You know, it’s only in films that the heroine can accomplish something just because she tries hard enough,” Ethan pointed out scathingly. “You have no more chance of successfully performing that spell than your average housecat does.”

“Ethan, if you don’t have anything useful to say,” Giles began, exasperated.

“As a matter of fact, I was about to point out that you do have a trained witch of considerable power on tap, who has a much better chance of succeeding than your Slayer does, Ripper. However, if you are not interested in my suggestions…”

He didn’t actually finish and Xander suspected it was because there wasn’t much he could do other than leave town and for whatever reason, Ethan was sticking around this time, longer than he ever had before, showing up at the Magic Box almost daily.

Giles and Buffy stared at him for a moment, then both turned their heads with identical slowness to look at Tara, who stared back at them, wide-eyed and uncertain. 

“He’s right. Tara, do you think you can do the spell?” Buffy asked.

“I-I don’t know. It sounds pretty advanced. I’m n-not sure I’m strong enough,” she began, looking incredibly nervous at finding herself the center of attention.

“I believe you are strong enough,” Giles told her. “And there is no chance this could harm you or anyone else,” he continued reassuringly. “It’s one of those spells that either works or simply doesn’t work. I’ve never heard of anyone trying it with any adverse consequences.”

“You did good last year with the spell against Adam,” Spike said, to everyone’s surprise, breaking his long silence. He’d been listening intently to everyone, more worried about Joyce than he was willing to admit. 

“Tara, I promise I won’t be upset if this doesn’t work, but he’s right, you have a much better chance than I do. Please?” Buffy asked quietly, just this side of begging.

Xander could tell that Tara was going to agree. Like Spike, he’d been listening without saying much up until now, because magic was so not his strong point, but he had a growing sense of panic as he thought through the implications of a spell to see other spells. He didn’t have to know anything about magic to realize that a spell to create a person out of nothing, and which must have affected the memories of half the people in town, had to be big time mojo, and would probably leave a huge signature of the kind Giles had just been talking about. What if, in doing the spell they saw something about Dawn that told them she wasn’t real? He had no idea if the spell they were talking about would show anything, but a spell intended to reveal spells sounded like it might put a big spotlight on someone created by magic. 

He couldn’t let anyone find out that way.

He heard Tara agree to try the spell and cleared his throat to catch the others’ attention.

“Buffy, I can’t do anything to help you on the magic front,” he said in what he hoped was a casual, no-big-deal tone. “But I’m assuming that anything involving trances and concentration is better done without any distractions. Why don’t Spike and I take Dawn out for pizza while you guys are doing your trance thing.”

Buffy threw him a grateful look that made him feel like a heel. “That would be great. You have no idea how hard it is to get homework done with her around, much less a big spell that calls for serious concentration.”

“Operation Distract Dawn is a go at your word.”

Spike gave him a peculiar look and Xander reminded himself to tone it down. The falsely hearty tone was making his vampire suspicious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Slayer!” Spike called peremptorily, then caught himself. “Buffy,” he said more quietly, “need to talk to you a minute.”

She was consulting with Glinda, gathering supplies for the trance spell, and the witch shooed her away gently, saying she could do it by herself. Xander looked up from the newspaper, where he was looking for movie options that Dawn and Spike could both live with. He nodded, indicating he knew what Spike intended asking, but looked back down at the paper, obviously intending to let Spike handle the questioning.

“What is it, Spike?” Buffy asked impatiently as he led her to the back room where they could talk privately.

As he turned to face her, she started in surprise as she apparently noticed his bruises for the first time. “What happened to you?”

“Fight,” he said brusquely.

“Oh,” she said vaguely. 

That worried him, more than anything she could have said. The Slayer might frequently be completely oblivious when it came to the emotional state of others but she had a predator’s instinct for the physical – weakness and injury were things she noticed, and a fight that had caused Spike’s injuries on her turf was something she ordinarily would have been very interested in. He almost hoped her distraction had something to do with the soldier, because otherwise it meant she was worried enough about Joyce to lose her focus entirely.

“What’s going on with Joyce? What’re the pills for?”

She frowned at him for a minute, then shrugged, seeming to decide that he didn’t mean any harm. “They’re pain pills. Her headaches are getting worse.”

“What’s wrong?” he tried to sound sharp but suspected his worry came through from the way the Slayer relaxed, leaning against the wall and letting her own frustration and worry show.

“We don’t know. The doctors keep saying they can’t find anything wrong. They’re running tests, but they haven’t found anything yet. That’s why I think it might not be medical.” She gestured vaguely towards the front room and the preparations going on for both research and the trance spell.

Spike just nodded. When he didn’t say anything else, the Slayer shrugged and walked back to the front room, leaving him there, lost in thought.

He’d give Buffy and Glinda time to do the spell, see if the problem was mystical and not medical. If the spell didn’t tell them anything…

Actually, he didn’t know what he’d do. But he was not losing Joyce, not if he had to threaten every doctor in town to get results.

~~~~~


	13. Chapter 13

As it turned out, they didn’t do the spell that night. Tara quietly insisted that she needed a day to study to spell and learn as much about it as she could before attempting it. Xander was interested to see that, when it came to something important, Tara was capable of standing up for herself. It helped that Giles backed her up, telling Buffy that giving Tara time to prepare would greatly increase their chances of success. Buffy reluctantly agreed, unable to argue with their logic.

Xander ended up taking Dawn to the movies alone, calling and telling her casually that Spike had business at the Court and did she want to see a movie with him. Spike was still fairly battered looking and they decided that it would be better if Dawn didn’t see him until his injuries were more healed. Dawn eagerly accepted the offer, always glad for the chance to have someone else pay for an outing. She was always broke, despite what Xander privately thought was a generous allowance - of course, since his own parents hadn’t given him an allowance after he was about seven, he admitted his perspective on the subject might be a little skewed.

Spike just smirked when Xander asked with mock suspicion if he would have let Dawn see his bruises if Dawn had chosen any other movie besides a romantic teen comedy.

After buying their tickets and settling in to watch the previews, Xander was grateful that he and Dawn were alone. Unlike Spike, who would have seen and wondered about it, in the darkness of the theater, Dawn didn’t notice the little sideways looks Xander couldn’t help sneaking at her, looking for…he didn’t know what. Some sign that she was different, he supposed. The one time she caught him watching her instead of the movie, he was able to pass it off as sheer disbelief that she was enjoying the romantic drivel coming out of the teenagers’ mouths on-screen. Dawn made a face and threw popcorn at him until he apologized, and suddenly she was Dawn again. Not something freaky, just his surrogate kid sister. Someone he loved. Someone real.

Settling back to watch the movie, Xander realized that he’d apparently come to a decision, one he wasn’t even aware he’d been thinking about. It felt like a huge weight had fallen off his shoulders, and he felt a surge of relief, knowing that he wouldn’t ever find himself staring at Dawn like that again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike was waiting for him we he got home after dropping Dawn off at her house. Xander slid down beside him on the couch and Spike put an arm around him, switching off the television as he did.

“How did it go?”

Xander shook his head, telling himself he wasn’t disappointed. After all, he hadn’t really thought there was much chance the spell would work, or truly believed that what was wrong with Joyce was mystical rather than physical. Buffy had been grasping at straws, looking for something she could fight. Something she could defend her mother against physically, since the alternative was sitting around helplessly waiting for someone else to do something.

“Buffy said Tara was able to do the spell. She checked Joyce’s room and Joyce herself while in the trance state. There was nothing there. She didn’t see any sign of any malicious spells around Joyce.”

“She sure she got it right?” Spike asked. “Maybe she wasn’t in the right kind of trance or something.”

Xander smiled, hearing the same desperate hope in Spike’s voice that Buffy had been clinging to. Spike wanted something to be attacking Joyce. Something he could kill. Human illness was as scary to Spike as it was to the rest of them, maybe more.

“She brought something along to test herself,” he told Spike. “A mirror that Willow did a spell on last summer, so the two of them can talk to each other through it.” Tara had blushed scarlet when she’d mentioned the mirror, completely unable to meet Xander’s eyes. He suspected Tara hadn’t realized that she was tracing the mirror’s surface lovingly with her finger as she explained the spell Willow had put on it. It made him wonder just how close the two had become.

“Anyway,” he continued, shaking off the thought for now. “Tara said that when she was in the trance state, she could see the trace signature of Willow’s spell around the mirror, but she couldn’t see anything unusual around Joyce or anything in her room.”

“So, not someone attacking the Slayer,” Spike said. “Knew she was being arrogant, always thinking it’s about her.”

Xander let that pass, knowing Spike was just trying to hide his own disappointment that the spell hadn’t given them an easy answer. He sighed, leaning his head down on Spike’s shoulder and twining the fingers together. “So, we’re stuck with waiting for the doctors to find what’s wrong,” he said, hating the need for waiting as much as everyone else. 

“Maybe,” Spike told him cryptically.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Master Spike.”

“Yeah?” Spike answered the respectful greeting without turning his head. He was sprawled casually in his chair, ostensibly watching the Court minions but in reality keeping a sharp ear out for conversations throughout the hall. So far, he hadn’t heard anything beyond idle curiosity about how he’d gotten injured. The Court gossip was overwhelmingly in favor of Spike having won the fight, which was as it should be.

He’d come down to the Court without saying a word about the fading marks on his face. Having been absent from the Court for the past two nights, he’d needed to make an appearance, despite still showing obvious signs of injury. Couldn’t be helped and he wasn’t so injured he would have any trouble convincing the Court he was still fully in control.

He’d avoided the mistake of sparring with weaker minions. Given his still-visible bruises, Spike had selected two of the senior minions as sparring partners when he’d come down to the main floor, knowing all eyes in the Court would be on him, looking for exploitable weakness. He’d trounced both of his opponents by the simple expedient of drastically changing his normal fighting style. There wasn’t a vampire in the Court who hadn’t seen Spike fight, hadn’t watched and tried to imitate his fluid style, full of spins and kicks and rapid movements. Tonight, he’d picked up a short length of pipe to serve as a weapon and let it do the moving for him, relying on sheer strength rather than movement to power his blows.

Both minions had been caught flat-footed, unable to adapt quickly enough to the change. Spike had thrashed them both, striking them again and again with a short length of pipe, using quick, jabbing motions into their center mass, rather than his more usual side blows that relied on the momentum of his spins for their force.

Leaving both vampires battered and bleeding on the floor, Spike pitched his makeshift weapon away, sending it skittering through the crowd of minions who leapt aside to avoid it, and delivered a scathing lecture to his two opponents about the dangers of preconceived notions during a fight. His words carried clearly to the entire, silently watching Court, and Spike spun around on his good leg and crossed to the raised platform at one end of the room, careful not to favor his still injured leg in any way.

He flung himself down in the chair on the raised platform he used for formal occasions and watched the minions with sharp eyes as they moved about the Court, his demeanor forbidding enough that no-one dared approach him except his Lieutenants - none of whom had seen the need to address him. Until now.

Jose bowed in response to Spike’s acknowledgement and was uncharacteristically hesitant as he spoke. “There is something unusual happening in town. I am not sure if it is something that affects the Court, or simply a human matter, but I thought I would bring it to your attention.”

Spike regarded him silently for a long moment. Jose was usually the best of all his Lieutenants about knowing what was important enough to bring to Spike’s attention and what wasn’t. The fact that Jose himself wasn’t sure whether the matter was worth mentioning was interesting. “Go on.”

Jose inclined his head, signaling his gratitude for Spike’s willingness to listen. “Several vampires have seen human that have been behaving…oddly,” he said, hesitating fractionally over the description. “In fact, the reports have been that the humans were wandering aimlessly, speaking strangely, and in short, displaying all the signs of insanity.”

“And this is important, why?” Spike asked, lifting one eyebrow in a show of mild surprise. “Don’t see how mad humans would be a problem for the Court.”

“Ordinarily, I would agree,” Jose said, still looking as if there was something bothering him about the report. “But, in my experience, insanity is not particularly common. Three different individuals have been seen in the past week, and one was seen the week before.” He made a small, uncertain gesture. “As I said, I am unsure whether this is a problem that needs your attention but I decided to pass on the information.”

Spike nodded. It didn’t sound like anything he needed to worry about, but it was unusual enough that he was glad Jose had approached him. The Slayer had said something about the human who’d found the Dagon Sphere going mad, but neither she nor the Watcher seemed to think it was related to the sphere. He’d pass the word on to Rupert, see if he could make anything of it.

“Keep an ear out,” he told Jose. “Let me know if you hear anything else. Might be nothing more than the local madhouse having a security breach. Pass the word. If there are any more sightings, try and get enough of a description so we know if people are seeing the same nutter or different ones. Prolly nothing to worry about, but don’t hurt to keep an eye out.”

“Thank you, Master Spike. I will keep you informed.”

Jose bowed, the only vampire in his Court who didn’t look fawning or obsequious when he made the gesture and left him, melting back into the Court where Spike could see him quietly instructing the other Lieutenants. Careful not to let anything show on the surface, Spike smirked to himself. Jose was the only one of his Lieutenants who would dare approach him with something that vague. 

Plague of insanity? Spike thought back to his human days, wondering if he’d read about anything like that before. He shrugged. Probably nothing, as he’d told Jose. More the Watcher’s area than his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t give a damn what you got going on, Sire. Need your help,” Spike snarled into the phone. Angelus was being even more annoying than usual, growling at Spike that he was busy and trying to hang up on him. 

“What’s wrong?” Angelus asked reluctantly. Spike would have staked himself before asking a favor for himself when Angelus was being like this, but this wasn’t about him. This was for Joyce and she was worth putting up even with his self-centered, pig-headed bastard of a Sire.

“Don’t like how the doctors here are treating Joyce Summers,” he said bluntly. “Want you to find me a specialist, someone better than the small-town idiots that are seeing her now. Someone who can find out what’s wrong with her.”

“What do you care, Spike?”

“I don’t,” he snapped, operating on instinct. “It’s my Claimed and the Slayer. They’re worried sick and the Slayer’s not even patrolling, spending all the time with her mum. Don’t care myself if she patrols or not, but it’s important to my Claimed.”

He hoped that the mention of Buffy and Xander would get Angelus’ head out of his arse long enough for him to be useful. As Spike’s Claimed, there was a thin family tie between Angelus and Xander. More importantly, although Angelus had let go of his one-time crush on the Slayer when he’d left town for good, with luck, there were enough fond memories to make him still want to help her when she was in trouble. Bloody soul had to be good for something. 

Instead, he got a gusty sigh, like Angelus had taken up breathing for a hobby. “Spike, I’m sure the doctors in Sunnydale are fine. I’m really busy so you’re going to have to deal with this yourself.”

Angelus proceeded to explain what was keeping him so busy in LA and Spike suggested helpfully that Angelus might need a doctor himself. The call degenerated from there until both vampires were shouting at each other and the threats had become more elaborate and laced with profanity.

Spike cursed one final time and ended the call by the simple expedient of hurling his cell phone at the wall, shattering it into pieces. “Fucking hell!” he swore out loud in the empty apartment. “Bloody soul is supposed to make him act like he’s got a heart, not make him mental.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Spike? What’s going on?”

Xander stood frozen in the doorway, looking from the agitatedly pacing Spike to the mangled remnants of the cell phone still decorating the carpet.

“Worried about Joyce,” Spike said simply.

“Have they heard something new?” Xander asked anxiously. Joyce had had a doctor’s appointment the day after they tried the trance spell, and they’d been hoping that, this time, someone might have answers.

Spike shook his head. “Doctor keeps telling her they can’t find anything wrong. Bollocks. Joyce isn’t a whiner. She has headaches so bad she can’t do anything but lie on the couch. Something’s wrong.” His eyes flared with anger as he gestured at the shattered phone. “Angelus says he’s got too much going on to help and we should trust the local doctors. Fucking gone ‘round the twist, he has. Claims someone has resurrected Darla.”

“Darla?” Xander asked blankly, trying unsuccessfully to remember where he’d heard the name before.

“Angelus’ Sire,” Spike reminded him. His eyes narrowed vindictively. “Ravin’ bitch and good riddance to her. Angelus better bloody well hope no-one’s found a way to resurrect her, because she is not going to be happy with him, what with him stakin’ her an’ all.” He growled. “Just a fuckin’ excuse not to help. Can’t bring a vampire back from ashes.” For a moment, his voice held a note of longing and Xander knew he was missing Drusilla. 

“Why did you call Angel?” Off-hand, he couldn’t think of anyone less likely to be useful, especially now. His last phone call with Cordelia had been spent listening to her complain about Angel - and this time it wasn’t about how cheap he was and how stingy with salary and benefits.

Spike shrugged. “Thought he might be able to help find Joyce a better doctor. Los Angeles has got some of the best doctors in the world.”

Xander looked at him in surprise and dawning hope. That was the best idea he’d heard from anyone about something they could do to help Joyce. He kissed Spike hard and put his hands on both of the vampire’s shoulders, smiling at him. 

“You know what? Screw Angel. We don’t need him. From what Cordy tells me, he’s been acting weird for weeks now. Wesley will help us.”

Spike looked at him in surprise. “Watcher Junior?”

“He’s got more connections than Angel and I trust him a lot more than I do Angel, especially if Angel is losing it.”

He’d already found the number on his cell phone and was waiting impatiently for the call to go through. He smiled at Spike as the phone rang. “You know you’re going to have to buy a new cell phone, right?” Spike hated the phone, and was only willing to carry one because it allowed Xander to get in touch with him.

“Buy?” Spike asked with his closest approximation of wide-eyed innocence. The phone was answered by familiar British tones before Xander could reply.

“Wesley? It’s Xander. I need your help.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Buffy, Spike and I need to talk to you,” Xander said without preamble as she opened the door.

Buffy looked tired and irritated, though she made an effort not to show it. “This isn’t really a good time, guys,” she told them, keeping her voice low. “Can it wait?”

“No,” Xander told her bluntly. “Come outside for a few minutes. It won’t take long.”

She sighed and obediently stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind her. She folded her arms and leaned back against the door. “Is it something Hellmouthy?” she asked with resignation.

Spike stirred beside him and Xander knew how much effort it took for his lover not to tear into her for the implication that Spike would need to come to the Slayer, hat in hand, asking for help controlling his Territory. It spoke volumes about how worried Spike was that he kept to their agreement and remained silent.

“We’re not happy with the way the doctors are treating your mother,” Xander began. Spike and he had agreed that it would be better if he talked to Buffy. If it came down to it, they weren’t going to listen to objections anyway, but Spike had agreed it was more likely Buffy would accept this from Xander. “We think she should see a specialist.”

“Well, duh,” Buffy said with quiet intensity. “But she won’t go. She says we need to have a first opinion before getting a second one.” Xander’s lips quirked, it was clear she was quoting her mother and he could almost hear Joyce saying it.

“See, that’s where we think that Joyce shouldn’t be given a choice. From what you told me last night, the doctors are giving her pain pills and telling her to come back for more tests - which are always scheduled for a few days or a week later. Meanwhile, nothing is getting done.”

Buffy was looking interested now. She’d stopped leaning against the door and was standing straight, her eyes flicking back and forth between Xander and the silent, unmoving Spike at his shoulder.

“We’ve made an appointment for her in Los Angeles with one of the best doctors on the coast. It’s tomorrow morning and they’re going to keep her in the medical center all day if necessary to do whatever tests they need. They’ll do all the tests tomorrow, not spread out over the next three or four weeks. The doctors there say time is of the essence sometimes and it’s best to do all the testing as quickly as possibly.”

Xander cleared his throat. “We figured we’d be the heavies. We’re just going in there and telling your mom she’s outvoted and she’s going. Spike is going to put her in the car by force if necessary.” He grinned suddenly. “Don’t worry, I’m planning on driving.” Buffy was almost as bad a driver as Spike. “Anyway,” he finished, a little awkwardly, “we wanted you to know what we’re doing, because frankly, we’re kidnapping your mom tomorrow, regardless of what anyone else thinks.”

Buffy stared at them wide-eyed for a moment, then suddenly lunged forward and hugged him so hard he thought his ribs were going to crack. When she released him, he just had time to glimpse the tears in her eyes before she turned and hugged Spike, to Spike’s complete astonishment. 

“Thank you. I can’t tell you what this means to me. And Dawn. We’ve been so worried and feeling so useless. Thank you.” She smiled tremulously and swiped her sleeve over her eyes, blotting her tears. “And you’re right. We’re all three going to march in there and tell her she’s got no choice. Up to now, she’s been pulling the mom card when I’ve tried to get her to do something other than wait for the doctors.”

“Can’t pull that card on me,” Spike pointed out, as Buffy opened the door to let them in. “I’m three times her age.”

~~~~~~

Joyce was absolutely predictable: insisting she didn’t need to see a specialist, that her doctor was fine, that she wasn’t up to the drive to LA. Half sitting, half lying on the couch, she did look tired and wan, but that only increased their determination.

Even the plea that she wasn’t up for the drive to LA, which sadly looked true, and not just an excuse, fell on deaf ears. As he and Xander had planned, Spike handled the confrontation with Joyce. She couldn’t pull rank or age on him, and by now she knew that Spike could be absolutely immovable when he thought he was right about something. Buffy and Xander made a solid wall of support behind Spike, silently reinforcing Spike’s words and letting Joyce know that they were all in agreement on this.

“Not giving you a choice about this,” Spike told her gently, crouched down beside the couch so his eyes were on a level with hers. “Strings’ve been pulled, appointment’s already made, hospital bed’s booked. Going to have to go with the flow on this one, Joyce.”

“But, Spike, this is silly. The doctors here are just fine.”

“They’re not ‘just fine’ if they can’t tell you what’s wrong in two weeks of trying. Sunnydale isn’t exactly the center of the universe for medical care, Joyce. This doctor in LA is top notch. If he says nothing is wrong, then I’ll bring you back home, and we’ll all stop worrying.”

Spike gave her a soft smile and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ears with gentle fingers. “We all love you, Joyce. None of us are going to risk losing you because the doctors here don’t know their arse from a hole in the ground.”

Joyce looked helplessly around at the three of them. “Alright. Although I still think it’s silly. And heaven knows what it’s going to cost.”

“All taken care of,” Spike told her breezily. In fact, Wesley had told them not to worry about the cost. He didn’t know and didn’t care how Watcher Junior had managed any of this: getting the appointment on such short notice and getting the cost taken care of. Either Wesley had a lot of pull at the medical center for some reason, or there was some kind of Saving the World chip being cashed in. Hell, Watcher Junior could have threatened them physically, for all Spike cared. All he knew was the Englishman he’d once dismissed as totally useless had come through for them in a big way, and Spike wasn’t going to forget that.

~~~~~

“Got it all fixed up, Joyce,” Xander told her. “I’ll be here to pick you up at 6 tomorrow morning. Buffy and Dawn can put pillows and blankets in the car tonight, so you can ride easily. Then the four of us will head out.”

“Four?” Joyce objected mildly. “It’s a school day.”

“Can’t make Niblet stay home if she wants to go, Joyce. I’m only staying here because your bloody car doesn’t have a boot.”

“I should hope so,” Joyce exclaimed, sounding like her old self for a moment. “You can’t ride the whole way to Los Angeles in a trunk!”

“Actually, he’s done it before,” Xander told her, feeling so much better now that she’d agreed and they were actually doing something. After all, the doctors who were treating her were the same ones who’d been diagnosing vampire attacks as barbeque fork accidents all these years. How good could they possibly be? 

He rested a hand on Spike’s shoulder and squeezed, so proud of his vampire he could barely stand it. This had been Spike’s idea, from beginning to end. And better than anything any of the rest of them had come up with. When Spike loved someone, he didn’t mess around. Not even Joyce was going to stop Spike from doing what he thought was best.

Which made him frown as he pondered the still unresolved question about whether to tell Spike about Dawn, but he forcibly shoved that thought away. Dawn would be safe with them in LA and he’d think about that they got back.


	14. Chapter 14

Wesley was waiting in the lobby as they pulled up to the patients’ entrance at the clinic, smiling and greeting them as casually as if he’d seen them all last week, instead of last year.

“I don’t know how you did it, Wesley,” Xander said, clasping the ex-Watcher’s hand firmly. “But I can’t thank you enough.”

Wesley shook his hand warmly in return. “I was happy to help. Did you leave your car outside the door?” Xander nodded. “I’ll walk out with you and show you where the parking is.”

Taking the unspoken hint, Xander looked over Wesley’s shoulder and saw that staff were already talking to Buffy and Joyce. He gave Dawn an encouraging smile and told her he’d be right back, holding up the car keys in explanation. She nodded, and turned back to listen to what the clinic people were saying to Joyce.

Outside, Xander repeated his thanks, which Wesley brushed off as unnecessary. 

“I may have resigned from the Watchers Council, Xander, but I haven’t been declared persona non grata. I can still call in favors, especially when that favor involves the Slayer. The Council may not know quite what to do with Buffy and Mr. Giles, but they do recognize the need to help keep Buffy doing the work she does. They aren’t happy with her being so independent, but they are rather stuck with her. Since they aren’t aware that there is an organized group patrolling the Hellmouth in her absence, they are willing to do what it takes to get her back on the job as quickly as possible.” Wesley’s grin was conspiratorial and Xander couldn’t help thinking that Wesley just continued to grow and mature in impressive ways. He was barely recognizable as the annoying, uptight, know-it-all he’d been when they’d first met him.

“How is it we got so lucky, with first Giles and then you?” Xander asked, leaning against Joyce’s SUV. “Frankly, the rest of the Council always struck me as worse than useless. And I don’t think it’s coincidence that the only two decent members of the Watchers Council both aren’t members anymore.”

“Thank you, Xander, but I haven’t forgotten how useless I was when I first arrived in Sunnydale.”

“Yeah, but you were only temporarily useless,” Xander said with a grin. “You just needed a little experience. A couple of Illuminati, one giant snake, and bingo - you were good to go.”

Wesley laughed and was quiet for a moment, a nostalgic look in his eyes, before he shook his head as if shaking off the past and changed the subject. “I’ve taken the liberty of renting hotel rooms for you while you’re here. I suspect Mrs. Summers is in for a long day of tests. Whether it’s good news or bad, I don’t think she’ll be up to driving back to Sunnydale tonight.”

Wesley handed him an envelope. “That has all the hotel information and some suggestions for restaurants nearby. Tell them not to worry. The Council is footing the bill for whatever happens. The clinic will send all the bills straight to the Council, so Mrs. Summers won’t have to worry about anything. The hotel rooms are available for as long as you need them.”

Xander looked down at the paperwork, a lump forming in his throat. “God, Wesley, this is just…” Words failed him and he just shook his head. “I don’t even know what to say. Not to mention how fast you set this all up. ‘Thank you’ just isn’t enough.”

“I got some sense of how important Mrs. Summers is to all of you at Thanksgiving last year,” Wesley said quietly. “An amazing woman, welcoming us all into her home the way she did. I was delighted to rattle a saber at the Council on her behalf.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wesley left, saying they didn’t need outsiders hovering while they waited, and to call if they needed anything at all. Xander couldn’t think of anything that Wesley hadn’t already taken care of, but it was nice to know he was there. 

He stepped back inside and found Dawn waiting alone for him. 

“Where’s your mom and Buffy?” he asked.

“Getting mom settled in a room,” she told him. “They said I should wait here so you knew what happened. Who’s the cutie?”

“Where?” Xander asked, glancing around the waiting room.

“The guy you were just with, dummy,” Dawn said, rolling her eyes at his stupidity. “Jeez, you are the straightest gay guy I know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, amused. 

“You never talk about how cute other guys are,” she complained, like it was a huge character flaw. Given Dawn’s burgeoning interest in the opposite sex, it was a subject that had come up more than a few times, usually when Dawn saw someone cute on tv and wanted Xander to express an opinion.

“Well, it’s a problem when your boyfriend is the homicidally jealous type,” he told her.

“Spike wouldn’t kill someone just because you thought they were cute,” she argued. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

Xander thought Spike probably wouldn’t kill any of the various boy band members that Dawn usually raved about, but that might just be because Xander didn’t find any of them worth even a second look. Too young. Too cute. Too not-Spike. 

Wesley, on the other hand... The former Watcher had developed sharp edges, an unmistakable air of confidence and competence, and just a hint of the dangerousness that Xander found so unbelievably sexy in Spike. Now that Dawn had pointed it out, Xander was willing to admit, privately, that Wesley was good looking. Not that Spike was ever going to hear about it.

“That was Wesley Wyndham-Pryce,” he told Dawn. “You remember, the Council made him Buffy’s Watcher for a while.”

“Him?” Dawn asked, astonished, twisting around to stare out the doors like Wesley might still be there. “The guy Buffy always described as the world’s biggest dork?”

“Well, he’s improved since then,” Xander told her, grinning. He absolutely refused to think about the fact that Dawn wasn’t actually there during the brief, disastrous weeks when Wesley had been assigned as Buffy’s Watcher in their senior year. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So soon?” Buffy asked faintly, which was more than Xander could do. He felt completely incapable of speech, his whole body frozen in fear since the doctor had come out to tell them the results of the tests. Xander had heard the words “tumor” and “brain” and it was like he was stuck there, unable to breathe or think coherently.

Joyce had a brain tumor. 

The doctor nodded. “Even a short delay can be critical in these cases.”

Buffy’s eyes were huge and frightened in her chalk-white face as she listened silently as the doctor patiently explained something about an operation to remove the tumor. Xander kept his arm around Dawn’s shoulders reassuringly as she clung to him, shaking with confusion and fear.

“You did the best possible thing, bringing her here.” The doctor continued. If it had been anyone but Joyce, Xander thought he might have found the man reassuring. “We have equipment here that can detect these things in their very earliest stages. Not to blow our own horn, but we have some of the best doctors in the world here, and one of them is in charge of your mother’s case and will be doing the surgery. Your mother has a very good chance of coming through this and making a complete recovery.”

There was a lot more: statistics and reassurances and details about what exactly was wrong. Buffy kept nodding in all the right places, like she was actually following what the man was saying. Xander knew she was only keeping it together for Dawn’s sake, knew she was on the knife-edge of tears, but none of that showed, except in her pale face and stunned eyes, and the white-knuckled grip she had on her purse.

They were keeping Joyce overnight and would be operating first thing in the morning, the doctor told them. They could see Joyce now, then she would need to rest, for tomorrow. 

Buffy and Dawn clung together for a long moment, and Xander stepped back, leaving the Summers women to find their comfort together. They walked off, arms around each other, Dawn drawing strength from Buffy, as they went down the hall to visit Joyce.

Xander sat down numbly in the waiting room that had become drearily familiar as they had sat there together all day, talking, reading magazines and waiting. Waiting for this.

Joyce had a brain tumor.

He buried his head in his hands and fought back his own worry and fear. He had to be strong for Buffy and Dawn, had to be ready to do whatever they needed; whether it was jokes and reassurances, strong, silent support, or just to quietly fade away and give them privacy to grieve and rage against fate. Joyce and her girls were what was important here, not his own need for comfort and reassurance.

He wished fiercely that Spike was here, wanting his lover’s presence so badly, he could barely stand it. But Spike was in Sunnydale and Xander had to find the strength to do this on his own. He couldn’t even call Spike, and felt a flash of irritation that Spike hadn’t yet gotten a new cell phone to replace the one he’d smashed. Not that this was telephone news. He needed to tell Spike in person, break it to him gently, because Spike was going to be devastated by the news. All of them had been desperately hoping Joyce’s illness would turn out to be a two aspirin type of problem and it was going to take awhile to learn to deal with the fact that this was so much more serious than they’d hoped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Buffy, what do you need?”

Xander had taken them out for a dinner they’d all just picked at, too shell-shocked to be hungry. Now, back at the hotel Wesley had found for them, Dawn was in the room she was sharing with Buffy, pretending to watch tv, and Xander had brought Buffy into his own room across the hall to talk.

Buffy looked at him with red-rimmed eyes, swimming with tears that she had not allowed herself to shed, and shook her head helplessly. “Xander, you’ve been great…” she began and he interrupted her gently.

“What do you need?” he repeated. Don’t worry about me, or anyone else. What do you need to get through this? Do you want people around, or for everyone to just leave you alone? You and Dawn are the only important things right now. What do you need to help you get through this?’ He managed a crooked smile. “Be as selfish as you need to, because you have to be there for your mom.”

Buffy stared down at the rug and Xander helplessly watched her bent head, not knowing what else to say. It was a long minute before he saw the tears, dropping silently down to the carpet. Without a word, he pulled her into his arms, letting her bury her face in his shirt and cry silent, bitter tears as he stroked her hair, wishing he could promise that everything was going to be alright.

She only let herself go for a minute, then straightened, giving him a watery smile as she wiped the tears away almost angrily. “I’m fine.”

“I know.”

“Did you really…?” she said hesitantly, her voice so quiet he almost couldn’t hear.

“Yes,” he said firmly.

“Giles. Do you think…?” she asked, sounding almost like a little girl.

“Giles would do anything for you,” he said, knowing it was true. “Do you want me to go get him?”

“I don’t want…”

“Buffy, he’ll be glad you asked. Trust me.”

He glanced at the time and made quick plans. “Buffy, I’m going to drive back to Sunnydale tonight. I’ll call Giles and he’ll be here first thing in the morning.” He smiled, seeing the relief on her face. “We’ll take care of everything back home. Forget about us, unless you need something. Then call immediately. Promise?” 

She nodded. “Thank you, Xander. For everything.”

“You guys are going to be alright. Summers women are tough.”

Her smile was wobbly. “Not so tough,” she said, reaching for a tissue and blowing her nose. 

“Let’s go tell Dawn what we’ve decided,” he suggested.

She nodded, and got to her feet with a tired sigh, crossing the room to the door. Halfway there, she turned back to him with a horrified look. “Oh, god. Riley. I didn’t even tell him we were leaving.”

“You had a lot going on and not much notice,” he pointed out. “Give him a call, he’ll understand.” Privately, he thought that if Riley gave her any grief about this, he was going to kill him.

Buffy just stood there for a moment, looking exhausted and guilty. It didn’t take much to work out the cause.

“Would you like me to call him for you?” he asked gently. “I can explain everything and let him know you’ll be in touch in a couple of days, when your mom’s better.”

She flashed him a grateful look. “Would you? I’d really appreciate it. I’m just so tired, I can’t stand the thought of explaining to anyone.”

“Of course. I’ll explain things to Giles so he doesn’t have to ask any questions.”

Buffy hugged him, hard. “Thank you. It’s not enough, but thank you.”

“We’ll talk to Dawn for a minute, then you two get some sleep. You need it. Giles will be here when you wake up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Giles dropped him off at the apartment and waited until Xander opened the door at the top of the steps, before driving off in Joyce’s car. He would be driving it back to LA in the early morning, timing his arrival to be there when Dawn and Buffy woke up. 

Calling him from the road, Xander had told him about Joyce’s surgery and that Buffy had asked if he could be there. It hadn’t surprised him that Giles had immediately agreed, making plans to close the magic shop so he could go to Los Angeles.

When Xander arrived back in Sunnydale, around 11 p.m., he drove straight to the shop where Giles was waiting for him with a to do list that he’d checked off most of the items on already. He’d arranged for Sgt. Morgan to keep the demon volunteers patrolling for the immediate future, and surprised Xander with the news that Tara was going to keep the magic shop open.

“She was worried that it would hurt business to close indefinitely so soon after opening,” Giles told him. “I think it’s too much work for her, but she insisted she could handle it. We’ve compromised on keeping the shop open half days until I get back. That way she won’t miss many classes. We’ll post signs,” he gestured toward a couple of hand lettered signs waiting by the cash register, “about there being a family emergency.”

“I can stop by every day after work to make sure she’s not overwhelmed,” Xander offered immediately. 

“Thank you, Xander. I’m sure Tara will appreciate the support. Now, tell me everything I need to know about Mrs. Summers.”

Entering the apartment, Xander was disappointed but not surprised to find that Spike wasn’t home. It was nearly midnight now, and Spike had known he might need to stay over in LA, depending on how late they kept Joyce at the clinic. Spike would be dealing with his worry in his own way, out wreaking havoc with the local demon population, most like, finding his release from frustration and uncertainty in violence. 

Xander had found his own release in the solitary drive back from Los Angeles, letting his emotions spill out where no one could see him scream and curse and cry, raging against fate and whoever decided to dole out suffering and illness where it wasn’t deserved. The journey had given him back his calm surface, allowing him to discuss plans calmly with Giles.

Sighing for what couldn’t be helped, he stripped down and slid into bed. Tomorrow, he promised himself tiredly, he was going to get a new cell phone for Spike. He was not going to be out of touch with his lover again, just because Spike hated carrying a phone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander was sleeping in their bed, Spike discovered, when he returned to the apartment shortly before dawn. When he hadn’t returned at the end of the day, Spike had assumed he was spending the night in Los Angeles, before returning with Joyce and her daughters. 

He’d cursed himself for his stubbornness in not getting a new phone, which had carried its own punishment by leaving him stranded without information and Xander unreachably out of touch. Rather than wearing a hole in the carpet pacing, he’d gone looking for trouble, retaining just enough caution about his recently healed wounds to limit himself to drinking and a bar fight. Still, thrashing a half dozen demons and breaking a great deal of furniture had helped him forget his worry over a middle-aged human he never should have become fond of. 

Getting soft, he told himself, but couldn’t find it in himself to care. Joyce was a good woman and one of the very rare beings he’d felt any affection for in his entire existence. Only natural he was worried about her.

Still, Xander being home must mean that Joyce had felt up to a late night drive home. Had to be good news, then. He slipped between the sheets and snuggled next to the warmth of his Claimed. Good news could wait and his boy looked tired. He’d let Xander sleep. 

“Spike?”

“Yeah, luv. Go back to sleep,” he murmured, long used to Xander’s habit of surfacing just enough to register Spike’s presence before falling back to sleep again. 

This time, though, Xander didn’t go back to sleep. He rolled over in Spike’s arms and Spike tensed as he saw the wide-awake dark eyes, shadowed with trouble, looking back at him. “Xander?”

“They found something,” Xander said, answering his unspoken question. “There’s a tumor. It’s small but it’s growing and it’s what’s been causing the headaches.”

Spike stared at him, fear swelling inside him until it would have choked him if he were human. Humans were so fragile and even he knew that tumors were very bad news. “What are they going to do about it?” he asked, fighting to sound normal.

“They’re operating on her. Tomorrow. Giles is going to drive to LA in the morning to be there for Buffy and Dawn. They say they’ve caught it early and there’s a really good chance she’s going to be fine.”

Xander’s fear, echoing Spike’s own, hovered just beneath the encouraging words, and Xander reached out and wrapped his arms around Spike, clinging to him desperately. 

“Shh, luv. She’ll be fine. Not losing her,” Spike crooned, wrapping Xander in his arms, giving and taking comfort, and wondering if he said the words often enough, he would come to believe it himself.


	15. Chapter 15

Despite curtains and blackout blinds, enough light crept through the bedroom window by mid-morning for human eyes to see clearly. Which wasn’t particularly helpful when you were lying awake and trying to find something to do besides watch the numbers on the alarm clock click over, one after the other. It was 8:17 now and Joyce would be in the operating room in less than two hours. Xander had only the vaguest notion of what was involved in the actual surgery, but he did know that it would be hours before they heard any news. 

Strong arms wrapped around his waist and Spike pulled him closer, spooning their bodies together. “Gonna be fine, luv,” he said reassuringly. “Joyce will come through this. Not going to lose her.”

Xander shifted in the circle of Spike’s arms until he could see the blue eyes, watching him in the dim light, with no trace of the sleepiness that usually filled them at this hour of the morning. Instead of answering, he slid an arm around Spike and leaned in and kissed him, knowing Spike was as worried and unable to sleep as he was.

Spike tightened his arms and prolonged the kiss and Xander was caught off guard at the sudden intense flare of arousal. He hadn’t intended to start anything but found himself responding hungrily to Spike’s kiss, his lips moving aggressively over Spike’s, hands sliding into the short white hair as his tongue darted inside Spike’s mouth to taste and claim. Spike returned the kiss passionately, his tongue dueling with Xander’s, teeth clashing, lips sliding against each other as each fought to control the kiss.

Xander pushed forward aggressively, shifting across the bed until he was on top of Spike, their bodies aligned full-length: tanned, heated flesh meeting cool, pale skin as they kissed for endless moments.

It wasn’t enough. 

There were times when the two of them would kiss for hours, lost in the sensation of tasting and exploring each other with their mouths alone. Not today. Dimly, Xander recognized that this sudden desperate passion was something more than just sexual arousal - it was an aching need for connection, for the feel of another body twined with his own, something to distract himself from the agony of waiting. It was obvious Spike felt it too, his strong hands moving over Xander’s body urgently, pulling them close until it felt like they were one skin.

For long moments they remained in that position, flesh fused together, bodies shifting and rubbing, cocks hardening, arousal building to unbearable levels until Xander tore himself free, sitting up, breathing heavily, staring down into Spike’s heated gaze. Without looking away, he reached down and began pumping Spike’s erection, his strokes quick and harsh, loving the way Spike growled and thrust up into his grip.

Releasing Spike’s cock, ignoring the snarled complaint, Xander rose to his knees and positioned himself over Spike, reaching back and spreading his cheeks, then began lowering himself down.

Spike caught him around the waist, stopping his downward movement, blue eyes searching his and finding nothing but arousal and burning need. He didn’t want to be careful, didn’t want anything slow and easy, and he didn’t care if this would hurt. He wanted this fast and rough, something that would completely overwhelm his senses and stop him from thinking.

After a long moment, Spike relented and eased his grip enough for Xander to begin lowering himself down onto Spike’s rigid erection. Spike kept tight control over his downward movement, forcing Xander to move slowly and gradually when he would have hurried things.

His unprepared muscles burned as they gave way, stretching to accommodate Spike’s girth as the vampire’s cock stretched and filled him, entering with exquisitely painful slowness, a fraction of an inch at a time, as Spike controlled the pace with inhuman strength.

Xander flung his head back, ragged breaths sounding harsh and loud in the otherwise silent room, as ever fiber of his being concentrated on the sensations battering him. His awareness faded to nothing more than the ever-increasing sensation of being filled and stretched to the brink of agony, pain that was laced with the most intense pleasure he’d ever known.

How long it went on, that agonizingly slow penetration, Xander would never know. He only knew that after what seemed an eternity, he found himself bent over Spike, forehead resting on the smooth, pale chest, still straddling Spike with Spike’s throbbing erection fully encased within him. 

He lifted his head and saw Spike watching him, lips quirked in a smile, the feverish passion calmed but still present in his eyes. As Xander straightened up slightly, he gasped as the movement caused Spike’s cock to brush against his prostate, sending an electric jolt of pleasure surging through him.

Spike waited until Xander had settled back fully on his haunches, eyes still locked together, to begin moving, thrusting his hips upwards with effortless strength, cool hands still gripping Xander’s hips and holding him in place as Spike thrust deeper inside him. Xander arched back with a gasp of pleasure, closing his eyes and riding the movement, letting the sensations batter him as Spike thrust into him over and over again, hitting his prostate again and again and sending pleasure washing over him. 

Xander reached down and began desperately pumping his own aching erection, needing release. It only took a few strokes before he exploded into orgasm, sending spurt after spurt of semen over his hand and Spike’s chest. His body clamped down hard on Spike’s cock and Spike thrust up one last time and the silence was shattered by Spike’s cry of release as he pumped his seed into Xander.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I have consulted with my relatives,” Mr. Okolo told Xander. 

He was always a little vague about his relatives. Xander knew Mr. Okolo’s mother was full Teer’ah and over a thousand years old, but he didn’t know how many others relatives he had, or how old they were, or where they lived. He always sort of assumed they were in Europe or Africa, or somewhere like that, but that was mostly because the whole immortal thing made him think of countries older than the U.S. For all he knew, Mr. Okolo’s mother lived in New Jersey or something. 

“They have heard of several esoteric objects referred to as keys: the Lost Key of L’mhynnoff, the Key of Aelfric the Wanderer…,” thankfully he stopped, and handed Xander a list, with the barest hint of a smile in his black eyes. “I have listed them for Mr. Giles to investigate, but I believe the most likely candidate is the key that is sought by the Knights of Byzantium.”

“The who?” Xander asked blankly. Weren’t they the guys in the last Indiana Jones movie?

“An ancient order of warrior priests. They have sought something known only as the Key for more than a thousand years, believing it to be an object of immense power. They still search for it today and there are rumors that they have journeyed to this country recently.” Mr. Okolo’s eyes were grave now. “According to my family, the Knights of Byzantium and another group: a handful of monks from a monastery in eastern Europe, both have been seeking the Key, one wanting to harness its power, the other wishing to destroy it.” Mr. Okolo made an infinitesimal motion with his hands that on someone else might have been hand-wringing worry. “Nearly three months ago, the monastery was destroyed. As far as anyone knows, none of the monks survived.” He looked at Xander, his face still and grave. “If the monk you spoke to is a survivor of that monastery, and he brought the Key here, then he has made this town the target of several opposing forces.”

“Several?” Xander asked. “If the monks are dead, doesn’t that just leave the Knights?”

“The Key has also long been sought by a dark power the Knights refer to only as ‘the Beast’,” Mr. Okolo told him. “It is not the Knights of Byzantium who are believed to have destroyed the monastery.”

This was beginning to sound uncomfortably close to apocalypse-level bad. “Any idea who or what the Beast is?” Xander asked, after a moment. 

“That, I do not know. Presumptively, the name refers to an actual being, but my family is not aware of the nature of that being. The monks and the Knights have guarded their secrets jealously over the centuries.”

“Well, whatever it is, they’re not calling it the Bunny Rabbit, so it’s probably safe to assume it’s bad news.”

“That would seem to be a safe assumption.”

~~~~~

Mr. Okolo had less information on the woman Spike had fought - there simply wasn’t enough to go on. No name, no description - other than human-looking and strong. Even the assumption she was a third party looking for the Key didn’t help narrow things down much. She could be someone acting on her own, like Gwendolyn Post had been, trying to seize control of a powerful object for her own purposes. He supposed it was possible she was the Beast but, if so, someone was commenting on her personality, not her looks.

Leaving Mr. Okolo’s house, Xander couldn’t help thinking that nothing that he’d learned was any help with his dilemma over what and who to tell about Dawn. Even the little information he’d learned was scary as hell and none of it sounded good for Dawn.

The monks were apparently out of the picture, and between something called “the Beast” and the Knights of Byzantium, Xander ordinarily would have been all for the Indiana Jones guys, except for the part where Mr. Okolo said they wanted to destroy Dawn. The monks had been trying to hide the Key and wanted to protect it, but they were dead, thanks to the Beast. And anything called the Beast that destroyed monasteries as a hobby was not something that he was planning on getting friendly with. 

So, the monks were dead, the Knights untrustworthy, and the Beast was dangerous. 

Great.

He supposed the question was pretty simple after all. What was the best way to keep Dawn safe?

The Key was powerful, but Dawn wasn’t. The monk had said that she was human now and needed to be protected, which meant it was no good hoping that Dawn was going to pull a superpower out of her hat at the last second and save herself.

So, was Dawn safer if people knew she was something other than Buffy’s kid sister?

All that hiding in plain sight stuff worked great for a while, but eventually someone always noticed the letter on the mantelpiece, or the real jewel in the Halloween tiara. Sooner or later, one of the bad guys was going to figure out what the Key was now. And when that happened, it would be too late to start warning people that Dawn needed extra protection. Which meant he had to tell Buffy and Spike, because they were the only ones strong enough to protect Dawn. 

Buffy could have this week, he thought. This one week to worry about her mother without having anything else dumped on her. She was going to have to be the one who would have to decide whether to tell Joyce and Dawn, and none of them needed that right now, while Joyce was in the hospital. 

Besides, he thought with a flare of bitter humor, it would give him a chance to practice what he was going to say on Spike first. Xander believed, because a torture victim had used the last of his strength to convey information he obviously had considered worth dying for. Without that same life or death urgency lending credibility, getting Dawn’s sister to believe that Dawn wasn’t real was going to take some doing.

Decision finally made, Xander looked around him, realizing he’d been walking blindly as he pondered, and caught his bearings.

It was late afternoon. Never the best time to talk to Spike, who tended to be sleepy and grumpy when woken up in the middle of the day for less than an emergency. He’d tell Spike tonight. Plus, there was something he’d promised to do and hadn’t done yet. He needed to call Riley. He‘d put off talking to him, having had better things to do, like morning nookie and meeting with Mr. Okolo, but he couldn’t put it off any longer. 

First, though, he was going to stop and pick up a new cell phone for Spike. Changing direction to head for the store, Xander wondered if he should get two phones, in case Spike decided to call Angel again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Riley. How’s it going?” Xander asked as Riley entered the shop. He’d asked Riley to meet him at the Magic Box, since he needed to help Tara. 

Suspecting it was going to be a difficult conversation, he’d asked her to take a long coffee break, then shamelessly hung a ‘Back in 20 minutes’ sign on the door. 

Riley didn’t respond to the pleasantry. “You said you had news. Does it have something to do with the fact that Buffy isn’t returning my calls?” he asked, looking more irritated than worried.

“Buffy’s mother is in the hospital,” Xander told him, with deliberate bluntness. “She had surgery this morning and Buffy and Dawn are waiting to see how it went.” 

He watched in satisfaction as shock replaced the annoyance on Riley’s face. “My god. Why didn’t she call me? I should be there.” He turned, obviously intended to head over to the hospital immediately.

“She’s in LA, not Sunnydale General,” Xander told him, stopping him in his tracks. “They found a tumor and they wanted to operate immediately.”

“Los Angeles?” Riley asked blankly. “They had to airlift her?”

Tempting as it was to lie, Xander was not going to create that mess for Buffy to clean up later. “No. We made her an appointment with a specialist in LA and they found the tumor. They wanted to operate right away, so she’s still at the medical center there.”

Riley frowned. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t Buffy tell me any of this?”

“She asked me to fill you in because she wasn’t up to talking to anyone after she got the news.” He shrugged. “The appointment in LA was set up at the last minute. They didn’t have time to do much more than pack.”

“They clearly had time to explain it all to you,” Riley began stiffly.

“Don’t be an ass,” Xander said impatiently. “I called Buffy’s old Watcher and he pulled some strings and got the appointment set up. Buffy only found out about it Thursday night and they left Friday morning at the crack of dawn. It was a last minute thing, not a conspiracy to keep you in the dark.”

“It’s Saturday afternoon and she hasn’t called yet.”

“Jesus, Riley, do you have to work at being this self-centered, or does it come naturally?” Xander snapped. “Her mother is having surgery today, she’s responsible for her kid sister in a strange city, and you’re complaining because she hasn’t called you. What the hell is wrong with you?”

He glared at Riley, who just set his jaw stubbornly. “I don’t think it’s out of line to be a little upset when my girlfriend, who says she loves me, doesn’t seem to want me around.” His shoulders slumped and he ran a hand through his hair, anger fading to hurt. “Why won’t she let me help her?” he asked plaintively.

“You know, for someone who claims to love Buffy, you don’t seem to know her very well,” Xander told him quietly, folding his arms and leaning back against the counter. “Buffy’s whole life since she was 15 has been about being in control, being the strong one. As the Slayer, if she’s weak, she’s dead. She can’t just turn that on and off. And right now, she has to think about her mom and Dawn and what they need. She can’t throw herself into your arms and cry and let you take care of everything, even though it’s probably what she’d like to do, because she’s afraid to show that weakness when her family is depending on her.”

Riley shook his head. “No one can be strong all the time. She can’t keep hiding her emotions like that, or eventually she’ll crack. She needs to let go, let someone else be strong for awhile. But she keeps pushing me away instead of letting me in.”

“Well, apparently you only want to give her what you think she needs. Riley, this is her mother. Pretty much her only parent since her Dad walked out on them. Buffy’s only concern right now is what her mother and sister need. The rest of us aren’t even a blip on her radar and that’s how it should be. Stop worrying about your hurt feelings and what you think Buffy needs, because the last thing she needs right now is you dumping a guilt trip on her.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Riley stood up abruptly. “And frankly, my relationship with Buffy is none of your business.”

Xander didn’t move, looking at Riley calmly as the other man bristled at him aggressively. “Buffy’s my friend. That makes it my business, especially when you’re sounding like a jealous five year old.”

“When you hear from her, tell Buffy I hope her mom’s feeling better,” Riley said bitterly. “She knows how to get ahold of me if she wants to.”

Xander just shook his head as Riley stalked out. If Riley hadn’t gotten his back up the moment he walked in, he might have been a bit more diplomatic in talking to him. He could sympathize after all. He’d rather be in LA, not sitting here three hours away worrying about what was happening. But Buffy needed Giles, not either him or Riley, and that was what was important right now. He sighed. He really hoped Riley pulled his head out of his ass before he talked to Buffy.

He stared at the phone, willing it to ring. Giles had promised to call again as soon as they knew anything but the phone remained stubbornly silent. Sighing, he called Tara’s cell phone to tell her it was safe to return to the shop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are they sure?”

It was too much to take in at once and Giles obligingly repeated himself. “Yes. The doctors are extremely pleased with how the surgery went. It’s too early to know for sure, but they aren’t expecting any complications.”

Giles hadn’t called until after dark and Xander had been going crazy, picturing all sorts of disasters. 

“I’m terribly sorry I didn’t call earlier, but the doctors wanted to wait until Joyce woke up before they would tell us much of anything. There was a bit of a feeling that saying anything too soon might jinx things, I’m afraid.”

Relief swamped him and Xander sat down heavily on the couch. Spike had leapt up from the couch and begun pacing the minute he heard Giles’ voice on the phone, but now he was standing motionlessly behind Xander. “That’s…” he cleared his throat. “That’s great. The best possible news.” He reached behind himself blindly and Spike took his hand in a strong comforting grip.

“Yes, it is,” Giles agreed. “Joyce is going to remain here for a week, so the doctors can keep an eye on her. They’re moving her to a rehab center tomorrow, where she will be under strict instructions to do nothing but rest and recover from the surgery.” 

“Sounds good. The three of you will stay there, right?”

“Buffy and Dawn will stay, of course,” Giles said immediately, “but I don’t want to impose on you and Tara.”

“You should stay too,” Xander told him firmly. “Tara and I have the shop covered, and Sgt. Morgan’s on top of the patrolling schedule. Besides, when’s the last time you took a vacation?” Relief was rapidly turning into near giddy happiness. “Do you even know what the word means?” he asked, laughing with sheer exuberance.

“I’ve spent two summers in England, since I became Buffy’s Watcher,” Giles said primly, but Xander could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah, but you can’t tell me you didn’t spend the whole time in the Council library, catching up on all the new books.”

Giles ignored that. “In any case, we are far ahead of you. Joyce will spend most of her time resting. Buffy and Dawn will be able to visit her twice each day and I believe there are plans afoot for their free time, what they are referring to as ‘quality shopping’.”

“You’re in hell, aren’t you?” Xander laughed, picturing Giles being dragged to clothing stores all over Los Angeles.

“Not at all, I am not required to go shopping with them. The hotel has a delightful courtyard and I have an excellent book.”

“You need a life in the worst way,” Xander told him. He knew he was grinning like a crazy person, but he didn’t care.

Giles promised to call with updates on Joyce’s recovery and Xander promised to notify them of any looming apocalypses and hung up the phone.

“Well, that’s all right then.” Spike said calmly. He’d been listening to both ends of the conversation and Xander just shook his head at Spike’s attempt to react indifferently to the news, as if he hadn’t been worried sick. He reached up and grabbed Spike, pulling his willing lover down onto the couch on top of him.

Wild, giddy laughter was just waiting to burst out of him, and he felt like he should be dancing to obnoxiously loud, pulse pounding music, or howling at the moon like a lunatic, or maybe being shagged through the mattress.

As Spike’s lips met his and he tasted Spike’s own mad happiness in his kiss, he decided that option three was definitely the best way to go. 

As they wrestled each other’s clothes off, Xander remembered that he was supposed to tell Spike about Dawn.

Tomorrow, he promised himself. Spike’s tongue down his throat made talking impossible anyway and tonight was for celebrating.


	16. Chapter 16

Xander had opened his mouth three times and then subsided, looking frustrated and worried. Something was bothering him and Spike didn’t think it was about Joyce, not after the Watcher’s call last night. 

He took a moment to quietly savor the knowledge that Joyce was going to be fine. Like all humans, she healed slowly and it was going to take a while for her to recover after the surgery, but she’d be back soon and everything would go back to the way it had been. 

“Should probably just spit it out, luv,” he advised, seeing Xander once again fail to actually say anything when he’d obviously intended to. “Otherwise, you’ll be sitting there all day.” 

“That obvious, huh?” Xander asked ruefully.

Spike just lifted an eyebrow.

“Right.” Xander sighed. “You remember the monk from the warehouse? I kind of left something out when I told you what happened.”

“Knew you’d tell me when you were ready, pet,” Spike told him casually, not making a big deal about the fact that Xander had been holding things back.

Xander gave him a fleeting smile but it vanished immediately. “He told me where they’d hidden the Key. He said… they changed it into a person, Spike.”

Spike sat up slowly, hiding his surprise. That hadn’t been what he’d been expecting. From the waves of anxiety coming off Xander, he suspected he knew the answer before he asked. “Anyone we know?”

“Dawn.” If not for vampire hearing, he never would have been able to hear the whispered name. 

“Come again?” 

“It’s Dawn. She wasn’t born human. They made her out of the energy of the Key.”

Xander was watching him anxiously and Spike narrowed his eyes, aware that they had shifted color. “Anyone else know?” He wasn’t concerned about Dawn not being human, or at least not originally being human. Not like he was human himself, or had that much use for most humans. It just made him feel smug. He must’ve sensed something about her all along, he thought. Would explain how he came to like a human teenager. He conveniently ignored the fact that Xander had still been in his teens when Spike first met him.

“I haven’t told anyone,” Xander said.

Spike shook his head. “Not what I meant. I’m guessing the monk didn’t do that little bit of magic by himself. Who else knows she was the Key?”

“No one. According to Mr. Okolo, the monks are all dead.” 

Spike listened with mounting concern as Xander described what he’d learned from the T’eerah hybrid. “So, we got two, maybe three players left on the board,” he summarized. “The Knights, the Beast, and the woman. Question is…,”

“Is she a third player or the Beast?” Xander finished for him.

“May have to ask her.”

Xander raised his eyebrows. “Uh, Spike, she kind of kicked your ass last time. What makes you think she’ll answer questions if you meet her again?”

He scowled at Xander for reminding him. “Plan on asking with weapons this time.” He ignored Xander’s skeptical expression. The skank couldn’t be all that tough. He’d just been unprepared, that’s all. Xander was staring at him with baffled exasperation. “What?” he asked, wondering what the problem was.

“That’s it?” Xander asked. Spike had no idea what he was asking and just looked his confusion. Xander made a frustrated sound. “Do you have any idea how annoying that it?”

“’m not doing anything,” Spike objected.

“I freaked out for days over this, Spike. And you’re just: ‘so what, she’s not human’?”

“I’m not human,” he pointed out, not understanding what Xander’s problem was.

“Bloody annoying vampire,” Xander muttered, but his lopsided grin and the relief washing over his face gave the game away. Spike just shook his head. Humans got fussed over the weirdest things.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Giles called every evening at the same time, giving them the latest bulletins on Joyce’s recovery and then passed the phone to Buffy and Dawn. Joyce had insisted they spend several hours every day having fun instead of babysitting her while she slept. 

Cordelia had taken Buffy and Dawn shopping, showing them her favorite designer resale shops, and Xander had listened with a grin and uncomprehending ears as they enthusiastically described the dresses and shoes they’d bought. They’d gone to movies and amusement parks and the beach, and the week had ended up being more vacation than anything else. Even Giles had ended up doing more than reading when Ethan showed up unexpectedly and quietly badgered Giles into going out with him in the evenings after the girls were settled in the hotel for the night. 

They hadn’t been able to speak to Joyce yet, because she was asleep long before Giles called each evening but hearing the relaxed, happy voices of the others told him more than any words could have about how well things were going with her. Everyone assured them that it was completely normal for Joyce to be so tired after her surgery, and that, when she was awake, she was very much her old self. The doctors were extremely pleased with how well the surgery had gone and believed they’d gotten every bit of the tumor and everything indicated a full recovery. 

In Sunnydale, they were in a holding pattern. Nothing had been heard from the blonde woman who’d fought Spike and everything was quiet on the demon front. The magic shop had been open for three weeks now, and business was going well with a steady flow of customers coming in. Never an overwhelming number, but Tara knew enough of them to report that the customers who’d patronized the shop under its previous owner had not only returned, but were pleased with the shop’s new look and some of Giles’ innovations.

Xander suspected that the pattern they had formed this week would last beyond Giles’ absence. It had already become a comfortable routine to stop off at the Magic Box after work. Tara and he had enough quiet time alone in the shop that he felt he was really getting to know her for the first time and was discovering a core of steel underneath the shyness. Gentle and compassionate by nature, she could only be pushed so far before she dug her heels in and stood her ground. As she relaxed around him, he learned she had a quiet sense of humor and strong beliefs about the use of magic - a topic easy to drift into in a magic shop. 

The shop was open only for four hours in the late afternoon, with Giles’ signs explaining the shortened hours were temporary and due to a family emergency. Xander hadn’t heard a single customer complain, and most of them seemed grateful they had found a way to keep the shop going in the owner’s absence. 

This afternoon, there were two men in the store, one about Xander’s age and an older man, who were eyeing the contents of the shelves with disdain. Tara was downstairs in the basement getting some supplies and Xander was behind the counter, ready to man the till if necessary, although with a week’s retail experience under his belt, he had decided that these two were lookers, not buyers. 

Despite that, he kept more than a casual eye on the two. Something about them seemed off and they reminded him of the one incident they’d had, right after the grand re-opening, with a couple of religious fundamentalists who had decided to express their disapproval of the “sinful” business by damaging some of the merchandise. Xander and Buffy had hustled them outside with just enough force to make them think twice about returning and Giles had delivered a scathing lecture about ignorant, uneducated people and threatened them with a restraining orders. He’d never been sure whether Ethan had done something to them although he thought he’d caught a gesture out of the corner of his eye and a flash of light. Certainly the people had looked wide-eyed with terror for one instant before taking to their heels. Ethan had never admitted anything and just smirked when they asked, but then, he smirked more than anyone Xander knew, except possibly Spike. He suspected it was the reason that Giles had dragged Ethan into the back room for a lecture that was suspiciously quiet. Xander had just shaken his head when Buffy made to follow them and Giles had emerged from the back room fifteen minutes later, looking dazed and thoroughly kissed.

Xander could hardly blame him. He knew from personal experience what a turn-on it was when your evil boyfriend defended you.

So far, these two could just have wandered in to the wrong shop, rather than be deliberately planning trouble. The younger one, whose round face was not improved by the scraggly beard framing his jaw line, looked like he thought the shop was a joke. The older man had a pinched look of distaste around his mouth, his whole face tight with disapproval. On the other hand, something about the set of his jaw made Xander suspect this was his normal expression, so it might not be the shop itself that was causing it.

Busy watching the two men, Xander jumped when the quiet was broken by the sound of breaking glass. He spun around and saw Tara frozen in the entrance to the back room, staring wide-eyed at the two men, before she ducked her head and bent hastily to try and clean up before the spreading pool of liquid could scatter salamander eyes across the whole floor.

“Watch the glass, Tara,” Xander told her quickly. “I’m coming.” He grabbed the dustpan and a handful of rags Giles kept under the counter and crossed to join her, using the rags to dam the spreading liquid as a temporary measure. “These things still salvageable?” he asked, looking at the chaos of tiny salamander eyes and broken glass.

Tara shook her head mutely and Xander saw her hands were trembling slightly. “Hey, no biggie,” he told her. “Accidents happen.”

“Tara.”

The voice came from behind him and Tara’s shoulders hunched before she straightened up slowly. “Dad. Hi.”

There was a surprisingly awkward silence before Tara stepped away from the mess and gave her father a stiff hug. “This is s-such a s-surprise.

“One of your dorm-mates said I might find you here,” her father said, disapproval lacing his tone as he glanced around the shop, making no effort to hide that same expression of distaste..

Xander slowly worked on cleaning up the mess, spending more time watching Tara and her family than looking at the stuff he was cleaning up. 

“Oh,” Tara said with guilty suddenness. “Um, this is a, a f-friend. Xander.” She turned back towards him. “This is my father, a-and my brother Donny.”

Xander lifted the hand holding the rag in a half-wave, half-apology for not greeting them properly. “Hey.”

“Pleasure.” Mr. Maclay said, politely enough, although Xander would have bet serious money it was anything but. “I don’t mean to interrupt. I know we’ve come on you kind of suddenly, but I thought we could have dinner.”

If anything, Tara looked even more alarmed. “O-okay,” she said faintly.

“Why don’t I pick you up at six and we’ll do some catching up.”

Tara nodded silently and her father and brother left the store without another word.

Xander waited until the door had closed behind them. “Tara? Is everything ok?” Her father had someone made “catching up’ sound ominous.

“Fine,” she said. “I’m so sorry about the mess.” She wrenched her gaze away from the door and brought him the waste paper basket to drop the broken glass into.

“Don’t worry about it. Are you sure you’re alright?” He gave her a searching look but she ducked her head and refused to meet his eyes.

“I’m fine,” she repeated. “It was j-just a surprise. I-I didn’t think they’d come.”

Xander frowned. He hadn’t heard Tara stutter that badly in weeks, not since she’d gotten more comfortable with them. “Are they here for a reason?” he asked cautiously.

“M-My birthday.”

“I didn’t know your birthday was coming up,” he said, surprised. “You should have said something. We could have done a small party or something.”

Tara managed a small smile. “It’s not important. I’ve never really liked birthday parties.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The blonde wasn’t cooperating. Spike had swept the town every night this week and hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her. Whoever she was, she wasn’t hiding in any of the usual places. He’d checked the tunnels, the cemeteries, the demon bars, all the typical places for a demon new to town and no one had seen or heard of anything that looked like her. 

The patrol volunteers had all been told to keep an eye out, but none of them had spotted anything either. The week had been unusually quiet and Spike was frankly itching for a good fight. 

He was about to pack it in for the night, just taking one last swing through a cemetery, when he heard the sounds of a fight. He stilled, listening, then made an exasperated noise. He considered just ignoring the situation, but decided it would be worth the time to watch. 

He headed for the sound of the scuffle, crossing the ground with quick strides, not particularly worried about being quiet himself. As he approached the source of the noise, he swung himself up to the roof of a crypt and settled down to watch.

Soldier boy and a vampire were trading blows in the middle of a small clearing. Despite the dim light, Spike’s vision allowed him to make out the heavy scattering of ash that marked the place where a second vampire had recently been dusted. 

Finn was panting, sweat shining on his face as he fought. The vampire was older than a newly-turned fledge, but not by much. It didn’t have more than rudimentary fighting skills, still young enough to think that strength and speed would win the battle. Finn was favoring his right side, like he’d taken a hard hit to his ribs. Probably not broken, Spike decided, head tilted to one side as he watched the soldier, but enough to slow some of his blows. Lucky for Finn, the vampire was too inexperienced to take advantage of the injury or he’d be food already.

Finn stumbled and went down and the vampire pounced, even as the soldier rolled rapidly, causing the vampire to miss. Finn brought his arm down and around and the vampire snarled as the stake in his hand dug deep into his stomach, missing his heart but doing fairly significant damage.

Finn cursed, and scrambled ungracefully back to his feet, one arm cradling his ribs, as the vampire regained his feet. The two of them stood facing each other, Finn panting hard, the vampire clutching the deep wound in his stomach and cursing. The soldier’s foot lashed out and the vampire dodged, then drove his fist into Finn’s kidney as the soldier inadvertently exposed his vulnerable back and side when the momentum of the missed kick cost him his balance.

The soldier was sent stumbling to the ground for the second time, barely managing to flip over to meet the vampire’s attack. 

Spike shook his head as Finn lead with his stake and the vampire impaled himself on it as he threw himself at the downed soldier. The explosion of dust set Finn coughing as he rolled to his feet, looking pleased with himself despite the pain he was openly showing. Finn had obviously not learned anything from his heart troubles. The idiot still thought he was invulnerable. If he went hunting anything but newly-risen fledges, he’d be dead soon. He hadn’t done anything to adjust his fighting style to something more suited to normal human strength. A weapon bigger than a stake might be a good start.

Well, if Finn got himself killed, that would put an end to his annoying whining, Spike thought. He supposed he should tell Xander that the soldier was out patrolling by himself but decided against it. Xander had enough problems he was dealing with. Let the Slayer handle her boyfriend.

Finn hadn’t seen him come, and didn’t see him slip away into the night, either. Anyone that oblivious to their surroundings shouldn’t be patrolling at all, Spike thought to himself, heading for the magic shop to pick up Xander.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“They want me to go home with them,” Tara said quietly, her hands clenched, white-knuckled, in front of her.

She’d gone out to dinner with her father last night, and today, meeting her as usual at the shop, it hadn’t been hard to see that she was more than a little upset about something. 

“Oh.” Xander wasn’t sure what to say. Tara did not sound happy about the idea. “Where’s home?”

“A little town in the hills a couple hours from here, you wouldn’t have heard of it.” She seemed to huddle in on herself. “I was never h-happy there after, after my mother died.”

“How old were you?” he asked gently. 

“F-fifteen. She w-was like me. A witch.” She looked at him nervously and he just nodded encouragingly. “M-my f-f-father always t-t-told me…” she took a deep breath and steadied herself and when she spoke again, her voice was under control. “My family told me I had demon blood and that, w-when I turned twenty the demon would show. Everyone w-would be able to s-s-see it.”

In the silence that followed, Xander could only think of one thing to say. “I’m guessing that this is your twentieth birthday?” 

She nodded. “I wrote to my dad last spring,” she told him. “When the c-coven was here and they did the spells to track demon energy?” 

Xander nodded, remembering how they’d used the spells to confirm the location of the Initiative cells and how many demons were trapped in them. “That’s when I realized that I wasn’t a demon. Th-that m-m-my family had lied to me all my life. Willow, a-and the rest of the coven were great. It wasn’t so much anything they said, just knowing them…” she hesitated, like she was having trouble explaining what she meant but Xander suspected he knew anyway.

“Maggie’s pretty amazing, isn’t she?” he said and Tara smiled at him. “When I first met her, it was like I just trusted her immediately. It’s impossible to think of her doing something deliberately cruel, or for the wrong reasons.”

“Willow’s like that too.” She flashed him an apologetic look. “For me. I-I-I mean, about trusting her. I know s-she’s done some things in the past…”

“It was a long time ago,” he told her. “We’ve put it behind us and we’re friends again.”

“I’m glad. She’s really worked h-hard. She’s good for me,” she told him shyly. “W-we talk almost every day, and she’s so good about helping me, encouraging me.” She hesitated and Xander wondered where this was going. They’d gotten a bit far afield from her family wanting her to come home. “She thinks I should stay in school, not go home.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to stay.” Tara’s blonde hair fell forward over her face and all he could see was the top of her head with the crazy zig-zag part she often wore. “But I’m scared.” Her voice was so quiet he almost didn’t hear the last few words.

“Of your family?” he asked, almost as quietly.

She nodded. 

“Tara, they can’t force you to go with them. You’re an adult and they don’t have any legal control over you.”

“I know.”

Xander wished he knew what to do. Whether or not Tara’s family had ever physically abused her, it was obvious they’d beaten her down emotionally. No wonder she was so shy and reluctant to assert herself.

He had a sudden inspiration. “Tara, do you need somewhere to stay for awhile? Some place where your family can’t find you?” Buffy had given him a key to their house, just in case. They weren’t going to be back for two more days, it was perfect. 

“Oh, no,” Tara protested. “Th-they aren’t…”

What they weren’t, he didn’t learn, because the shop door opened at that moment. Xander’s jaw tightened when he saw it was Tara’s father. He entered, giving Xander a brief nod, then focusing on Tara.

“Tara, it’s time.”

Tara hunched her shoulders, just as her brother and a blonde woman Xander hadn’t seen before but who was obviously with the two men, entered the store.

He stood up. “Mr. Maclay, this isn’t a good time. Tara and I are in the middle of a conversation.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to interrupt. Tara is coming with us.”

Tara had risen to her feet as well and stood facing her family, white-faced but firm. “No.”

“Tara, we’ve talked about this. What you are doing here,” he glanced around the shop with distaste “is just making things worse.”

“How is working and helping a friend making things worse?” Xander asked, when Tara flushed and looked down at the floor.

“I don’t recall this being any of your business, young man,” Mr. Maclay said icily. “We’re Tara’s family and we know what’s best for her.”

“I’m not going,” Tara said again.

“You’re going to do what’s right, Tara,” her father said sharply.

Tara shook her head mutely and Xander stepped forward, casually putting himself between Tara and her family.

“What’s right for Tara is staying here. Now, this is a place of business and I’m asking you to leave.”

Mr. Maclay didn’t move. “Tara belongs with us,” he said stubbornly. “We know how to control her... problem.”

“And what problem would that be?”

“There is evil inside of her,” Mr. Maclay said with conviction. “Where do you think all this -” his gesture seemed to include everything in the magic shop - “comes from?”

“You’re asking someone that who works here part time?” Xander began, only to be interrupted.

“Bollocks.”

Tara’s family swung around. Spike leaned against the doorframe, white hair shining under the lights, wearing tight black jeans and t-shirt, with his favorite red silk shirt unbuttoned and hanging loosely over his lean frame. His whole body radiated menace and Xander wondered, not for the first time, how Spike was able to do that while leaning casually against something and seeming completely relaxed.

“Glinda?” he asked with amused contempt. “I know something about evil and she’s not evil.” 

Suppressing a grin, Xander thought the Maclays had gotten the message, loud and clear, that Spike knew a lot more than just ‘something’ about evil. Tara’s head had snapped up and she was staring at Spike in surprise, apparently not having realized before now that Spike liked her. Spike nodded to her, without taking his eyes off her father. 

“Problem, luv?” he purred, like he was just itching to solve the problem, violently. Probably permanently.

“No problem,” Xander told him cheerfully. “The Maclay’s were just leaving. Tara’s decided to stay in town.”

Mr. Maclay gave him a frustrated glare but didn’t push it when Spike started growling, a barely audible sound whose menace was unmistakable. Tara’s brother took one step in Tara’s direction before coming to his senses and snapping his mouth shut without saying anything.

“Well,” the blonde woman said. Xander assumed she was a relative of some kind, she had the same pinched, disapproving features as Mr. Maclay. “I hope you’ll all be happy, living with her.”

“Plan to be ecstatic,” Spike told her, giving her a feral grin. “You’re welcome to stay. Orgy’s open to all.”

Her jaw dropped and she sputtered, seeming incapable of answering the invitation. She edged away from Spike, keeping Tara’s brother between her and Spike as she left hurriedly.

There was a moment’s silence after the door closed. Tara was the first to speak.

“Orgy?” she asked.

“Just a thought,” Spike said airily.

To Xander’s surprise, Tara giggled, causing Spike to lift an eyebrow at her in surprise and Xander to grin at her proudly - Spike respected people who laughed at him. Well, a few of them. Anyone else tended to not survive the experience, but it looked like Tara was going to be one of the few who could get away with it.

Before Spike could say anything to prove how serious he was - Tara was pretty new at this - Xander crossed the room and threw an arm around his waist. “Perfect timing, luv,” he said, using Spike’s usual endearment. “Thanks.”

“You and Glinda looked like you had things well in hand.”

“Tara did,” he told Spike, smiling at Tara warmly. “But you kept things from escalating, which is a good thing.”

“Pity,” Spike said with genuine regret.

Xander just grinned. Trust Spike to regret having prevented a tense situation from escalating into a fight.


	17. Chapter 17

“So, even though Cordelia told us that only losers shopped on Rodeo Drive, we made her drive us down the street anyway, and guess what?” Dawn looked around the group excitedly. “We saw Lance Bass!”

“Who?”

Xander wasn’t sure if the blank question came from himself or Giles. Sheepishly, he had to admit from Dawn’s glare and Giles’ amused look, that he was probably the culprit. Although, if Giles knew the name, it had to be because he’d already heard this story.

Enduring Dawn’s exasperated sigh for his complete ignorance and listening with half an ear to her explanation of just who the “incredibly cute” guy that apparently everyone on the planet but him had heard of, Xander suspected with an inward grin that Dawn thought he was letting the gay side down again. Untroubled by her lecture, he looked around the room with a feeling of deep contentment.

The Summers women had arrived back in Sunnydale early that afternoon and Spike and Xander had showed up at sunset, arms laden with boxes of Chinese take-out. Giles, Tara, Riley and even Ethan had joined them for a quiet celebration in which so far everyone had behaved themselves and no one had mentioned hospitals, illness, or Hellmouthy activity. Xander couldn’t think of any previous gathering he’d been to where all those subjects were off limits.

Joyce wore a brightly patterned scarf that covered most of her hair, but otherwise looked completely normal, laughing with the rest of them at Buffy’s and Dawn’s description of the horror of Giles’ ideas of ways to amuse themselves in Los Angeles. Apparently Giles had thought they should visit the museums in town, a suggestion that had been rejected emphatically with the scorn it deserved. 

Leaning back against Spike as they sat together on the couch, Xander smiled to himself, admiring the way that Joyce had effortlessly made everyone feel welcome and at ease, yet at the same time managed to have everyone on their best behavior. Spike’s hands hadn’t strayed to naughty areas even once - the time they were briefly alone in the kitchen really didn’t count. Tara was smiling and talking quietly with Giles, as relaxed and comfortable as Xander had ever seen her. Ethan hadn’t cut loose with his trademark biting sarcasm, and if Riley and Spike were acting as if the other wasn’t in the room, at least they weren’t insulting or attacking each other. Buffy looked relaxed and carefree, perched on the arm of Riley’s chair, feeding him bites with her chopsticks from the box of lo mein noodles she was hogging to herself.

Xander caught Joyce’s eyes on him and smiled, digging his chopsticks in to his own container of Mongolian Beef, he mouthed ’welcome home’ across the room to her before popping the spicy meat into his mouth. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ok, Xander, what’s going on?”

Yeah, he totally deserved the puzzled look Buffy was giving him. He’d really thought he was ready to do this, god knows he’d practiced enough but, every time he opened his mouth, he completely lost his nerve. If anything, Spike’s non-reaction to the news that Dawn wasn’t human had made it harder to tell Buffy. Whatever else happened, he was positive it wasn’t going to be calm, almost bored acceptance.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about,” he said finally. He really needed to do this. Buffy had been home for several days now and he was still trying to work up the nerve to broach the subject. He’d gotten further today than before, asking her to talk to him in the back room of the magic shop.

“Figured that,” she told him, smiling a little.

“Do you remember the monk who told us about the Key?” he began. Buffy nodded, looking a little surprised, obviously wondering why he was bringing up such old news. “I didn’t tell you everything that happened.”

Haltingly, he described again how badly injured the man had been, how much pain he was in as they fled the building, how the monk had fought for breath as he tried to speak, to convey the information he had been tortured for. He tried to make his words as vivid as possible, trying to recreate the intensity of the moment - the intensity that had convinced Xander the monk was telling the truth. Buffy listened silently, letting him get to the point in his own time.

“He said they sent the Key to you, Buffy, knowing that, as the Slayer you were the best person to keep it safe.”

“To me?” she interjected in surprise, interrupting him for the first time. “I think I’d have noticed a glowing ball of energy if I’d been given one.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Of course not,” she muttered sourly, and Xander couldn’t help giving her a flicker of a smile.

“The monk said they disguised the Key and tampered with our memories so we wouldn’t notice it had just appeared. So we’d remember it as having always been there.”

“As what?” Buffy prompted when he faltered.

“He said they made the Key… into a person.”

Buffy looked not so much blank as completely uncomprehending. “What?”

Xander found himself quoting the monk’s words. It wasn’t hard, they’d haunted him for days after the monk died. “For centuries, it had no form. Then the abomination came and the monks hid the key. Gave it form. Molded it into flesh. Made it human, and sent it to the Slayer… in the form of a sister.”

Buffy stared at him, mouth open in shock. Slowly, she began shaking her head in denial. “You’re lying.”

Aching for her, for Dawn, Xander just shook his head.

“You’re full of it, Xander!” Buffy jumped to her feet furiously. “I’m not listening to this.”

“Buffy, I’d give anything if it wasn’t true, but I believed him.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? This is DAWN you’re talking about. I remember when my parents brought her home from the hospital, for god’s sake. She’s my SISTER.”

“The monks created our memories,” Xander repeated quietly. Buffy was standing over him threateningly and he just looked at her with a calmness he wasn’t feeling. “It doesn’t make her any less real. She’s just… a little younger than we thought.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to do, Xander Harris, but I’m not buying a word of this. Tell me what’s really going on, right now.” She glared at him furiously, fists clenched, her whole body shaking with the effort it was taking to keep from attacking him. Xander made no move to defend himself, just continued to sit there, looking up at her.

“Fine! If that’s the kind of friend you are, then stay away from me. Stay away from my whole family. And if I hear you’ve said one word to Dawn about this bullshit, I’m going to forget that Slayers aren’t allowed to kill humans.”

She spun around and almost ran for the back door, slamming it behind her with a crash that echoed in the empty room. Xander sagged, feeling suddenly exhausted, wondering if it was possible for things to have gone worse. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike stepped into the magic shop, nodding briefly to Glinda behind the counter, his eyes scanning the room for Xander. Rupert was helping a customer and there was no sign of his boy, though his scent lingered in the shop.

“H-He’s in the back,” Tara said, her eyes worried. “Buffy yelled at him and stormed out, but he said he was fine and asked us to leave him alone. We haven’t heard from either of them since.”

Spike’s jaw tightened. Xander had insisted on talking to Buffy alone and look what it had gotten him. He jerked his head in acknowledgement of her words. “I’ll take care of it,” he said, striding rapidly across the store to the back room.

He opened the door quietly. Xander was sitting on the floor, crossed arms resting on his knees, face buried in his arms. His whole posture spoke of unhappiness and defeat and Spike felt a shaft of pure anger go through him at the sight. The Slayer had no right to treat his boy like that.

“You alright, luv?” he asked quietly, closing the door firmly behind him and crossing the floor to crouch down in front of his Claimed.

Xander raised his head and managed a crooked smile. “I’m fine, Spike. I should have expected this. It took me a couple of days to believe, and I heard it first hand.”

Spike snorted contemptuously. “Way I see it, Slayer should trust her friends more. Knows you love Dawn, doesn’t she? Knows you’d never hurt her. Makes you a much more believable source than some stranger who just happened to kick it in your arms.”

“Maybe, but it’s a lot to swallow, Spike. You know what they say about killing the messenger. I just happened to be the messenger.”

“Trust the Slayer to go for the cliché,” Spike growled. “Never been the brightest bulb in the lamp.”

Xander just shrugged, still looking miserable. Spike narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What did she say to you?”

“Nothing.” 

“Don’t lie, pet. A lot more’s wrong than just the Slayer bein’ an idiot.”

Xander looked at him with wounded eyes. “She told me to stay away from Dawn and Joyce. I never thought she’d react that badly, that she wouldn’t trust me any more.”

Spike cursed to himself and pulled Xander roughly into his arms, rocking him comfortingly. “Don’t fret, luv, she’ll come around. Dawn and Joyce are your family, Slayer tried to keep you from seeing them before and they wouldn’t have any part of it.” He smirked, remembering when Buffy had returned from her cowardly runaway after she killed Angelus to find that Xander and he were welcome guests in her home. That had been a bit of good fun, watching Joyce give her daughter what for. “She’ll come to her senses. Or I’ll kill her,” he said matter-of-factedly. 

“Great, that’ll help keep Dawn safe.” But Spike felt Xander’s lips curl reluctantly against his skin as he said it.

“Like she cares about her sister, not even listening to the person trying to help her get ready for what’s coming. Bloody idiot. Had no right to say that to you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Xander’s head jerked up and he looked around Spike to see Buffy standing in the doorway. Spike had known she was there listening, but it was obvious that Xander hadn’t heard her come in. 

“Spike’s right. I know you would never hurt Dawn, or me. I had no right to say that to you.” She stepped further into the room and Spike could smell the confusion and fear on her. “I’ve been trying to convince myself that you were making this up but I haven’t been able to come up with even one good reason why you would.”

“It’s a lot to accept,” Xander said, and Spike scowled at the forgiveness in his voice. “I freaked out for days when I heard it. What made me believe was that the monk died to protect the Key. He used the last of his strength to tell me it was Dawn. I just couldn’t convince myself he was lying, not when he paid such a high price.”

Buffy nodded soberly. “Part of me is completely wigged and wants to run home and throw Dawn out of the house. But most of me just knows she’s my kid sister and I love her.”

“Throw her out and I’ll come for you, Slayer,” Spike snarled, appalled she would even think about it. “Who gives a fuck what she once was. She’s human now and under our protection.” He was startled when Buffy smiled at him.

“I can live with that.”

~~~~~

They talked quietly for a long time, the three of them. Buffy was in full Slayer mode, listening intently as she had both of them repeat everything they knew about the monk, the Key, and the demon woman. Xander repeated his conversation with Mr. Okolo and Spike described his fight with the woman, his estimate of her strength and his assessment of her fighting skills. 

Buffy looked worried, almost frightened, when they finished. She’d always protected and looked after Dawn, but learning she was the focus of at least two groups actively seeking to harm her was another thing entirely. 

“I need to take Dawn and mom out of town,” she announced. “Like now. Tonight.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Spike began harshly but Xander clamped down warningly on his arm, cutting him off.

“Buffy, you can’t. Your mom needs to stay near her doctors and you don’t even know what you’re running from, or if they know that you have the Key. If the Slayer suddenly leaves her post without any reason, it’ll be a big red flag to anyone searching for the Key. You’re the most logical person to be protecting it and, if you leave, they’ll know you have to have the Key with you. You’d never leave it behind for someone else to protect. 

“As long as you’re here, at home, they’re going to be looking for a thing - a mystical ball of energy. Something the monks sent to you to hide. And where better than the Hellmouth, with all that Hellmouthy energy floating around. If you leave and don’t take anything but your family with you, they might put two and two together and come up with the right answer. As long as you’re here, if you treat Dawn just the same as you always have, how would anyone ever guess she’s anything but your sister?”

Buffy looked torn. “I don’t know.” She ran her hands through her hair impatiently. “I need…”

“Listen to him, Slayer. Don’t do something without thinking, just for the sake of taking action. If you run now, without any information, you might just run straight into their arms.”

“Take at least a day or two to think about things,” Xander suggested quietly. “You can’t make rational decisions in the state you’re in.” He smiled. “Believe me, I know. Besides,” he added, trying to lighten things up a little. “What do you think would happen if you went home and told your mom the three of you were leaving town tonight, no explanation?”

“I’m pretty sure I’d still be explaining things two hours later,” Buffy admitted, her lips quirking in a tiny smile. “Thanks, you’re right. Any decision I make right now is going to be out of panic and not sense.” She looked at them both. “Does anyone else know.”

Xander shook his head. “Just the three of us. We figured, it was your right to decide.”

Buffy nodded sharply. “I’m not telling mom. Not yet. Not so soon after…” She stopped without finishing, as if mentioning the surgery was still beyond her. “I’ll have to decide about Giles.”

Xander didn’t push but he thought she should tell Giles. On the other hand, it had taken him days to decide to tell anyone at all, so he understood the need to process. 

“Should tell Bit,” Spike said flatly.

“Dawn? Yeah, right. That’s the last thing she needs.”

“Has a right to know what she is,” he insisted.

“We don’t even know what she is yet. I’m not going to tell her that she’s not real. Not unless I have to.”

“Be worse if she finds out on her own.”

Xander nudged him, signaling him to let it go and Spike subsided unwillingly. It could wait for now. Dawn didn’t have to know yet. Better if Joyce knew first, so Little Bit could go to her mum for comfort. But he wasn’t going to let it go indefinitely. He’d tell Dawn if no one else did.

Not like it was that big a deal anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy was laughing as Xander entered the magic shop and he stopped in the doorway to watch for a moment. It was the first time he’d seen her look relaxed since he’d told her about Dawn. She was describing a vampire she’d staked on patrol last night to Tara, her eyes sparkling, gestures animated, as she told the story. Tara looked like she was gamely trying to get into the spirit of the tale.

“Seriously, Tara. This guy had the worst hair I’ve ever seen. It wasn’t so much dred locks as a dirty mop on his head. And his smell…”

Xander smiled at Tara sympathetically and left her to her fate, strolling over to join Giles at the round ‘study’ table that had been piled with books all week as Giles continued to try and find something that would shed light on the identity of the “demon woman” as Buffy referred to her. Xander was just glad that Buffy told him Giles really had taken the week off in Los Angeles, not opening anything more serious than a novel the entire week.

“Still nothing?” Xander asked sympathetically.

“I’m afraid not,” Giles told him.

“Giles, I know you like to be prepared, and that’s good, but this time you’re trying to look up something we don't know the name of and know next to nothing about,” Xander pointed out. “I’m just afraid you’re wasting your time.”

“I confess I am rather out of ideas.” He gestured wearily at the piles of books. “I don’t think there is anything in any of these that is going to help us.”

“Maybe she’s not in the books,” Tara said quietly from behind them.

Giles looked up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if she’s not a demon, or sorceress, or spirit, or whatever these books cover? What if she’s something else altogether?”

“Something new, you mean?” Giles asked, looking intrigued.

Tara shook her head. “Something old. So old it pre-dates the written word.”

“Giles, the Dagon sphere,” Buffy reminded him, having joined them at the table. “You said that was created to repel -”

“That which cannot be named,” Giles finished for her.

Xander frowned. “So, you’re saying that maybe she -” he stopped, not sure what he was trying to say.

“Predates language itself?” Giles filled in his half-formed thought. “If you’re right, Tara, then we’re blind. There’s…, there’s no way we can determine her moves, her habits, where she’ll turn up next… She could be anywhere.” 

The troubled silence went on for what felt like a long time, and Xander wished there was something he could say to make Giles feel better. Giles had always relied on research to give him the answers he needed to protect Buffy. Now he looked helpless and almost frightened at the thought that his Slayer might soon be facing an adversary that Giles couldn’t prepare her for. 

“What I want to know is why haven’t we heard from her?” Buffy asked. “Most new big bads in town don’t lay low for this long. It’s been - what? Almost three weeks since she and Spike fought?”

“If she’s as powerful as Spike says, I imagine it won’t be long before she makes herself known, one way or another,” Giles told her gloomily.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ethan made a practice of sorting through the invoices kept neatly stacked under the cash register. He liked to comment scathingly on the cost, worthlessness, etc. of the items sold in the shop that day. Xander wasn’t sure exactly what that was about but he’d learned that Ethan always had a reason for the things he did - even if sometimes that reason was the pleasure of just being annoying. Actually, now that he thought about it, Ethan was probably just confirming his low opinion of most of the Magic Box’s customers. As an experienced warlock, Ethan had nothing but contempt for dabblers.

Now, however, Ethan was staring at a particular invoice, a look of something like alarm on his face. “Ripper, old man. You may have a bit of a problem here.”

“What is it now, Ethan?” Giles asked impatiently. Ever since Buffy told him about Dawn, he’d been going through his books looking for information about the Key and checking out the entire list of possible Keys that Mr. Okolo had given them - all 27 of them - afraid to just accept the assumption that the Key the Knights of Byzantium were looking for was the right one. He’d taken the news with his usual unflappable calm - not quite Spike blasé, but close. Xander was grateful that he’d continued to treat Dawn the same as always: like his Slayer’s younger sister, not something Hellmouthy and weird. He was embarrassed to admit that Giles had done better than he himself had when he first found out.

“It appears that you sold someone a Khul's amulet and a Sobekian bloodstone.”

“Yes. Yes, I believe I did,” Giles answered distractedly. “I’m rather busy, Ethan. Can’t it wait?”

“That depends.”

“Depends?” Xander asked, looking up from his own dry tome and closing it with an emphatic thump. He was pretty sure the Key of Mhynindok wasn’t their Key. Not when it was described as a physical object used to open the treasure vaults of the Mhyrtoshiin Clan. Apparently, it was spelled so that only members of the royal family could touch it without being killed, or “incinerated by the wrath of the gods” as the book put it.

“On who he sold them to,” Ethan told him crisply. “The two items together can create things that make Eyghon look like a Sunday school teacher.” Giles flinched at the name and shot Ethan a harsh look. Glancing between the two, Xander decided he was not going to ask about that particular reference. 

“Create?” Xander asked, not liking the sound of that.

“The Sobekites were an ancient Egyptian cult, heavy into dark magic, Xander,” Giles explained. “They were able to use Khul’s amulet as a transmogrification conduit. However, there is no reason for concern. The Sobekian transmogrification spells were lost thousands of years ago. And they required someone with enormous power to successfully incant the spells.”

“Enormous power such as might exist in, oh, say an unknown being of indeterminate, possibly ancient origins, able to kick a Master Vampire’s arse without breaking a sweat?” Ethan asked, raising a sardonic eyebrow.

“Oh, dear lord.” Giles rose to his feet abruptly. “I sold them to a young woman.” He looked horrified. 

“Give the man a kewpie doll.” Ethan’s satisfaction at Giles finally getting his point seemed to greatly outweigh his concern that they’d just given the enemy of the week something that could - 

“So, what exactly can those things be used for?” Xander asked.

“Transmogrification spells change a living thing into something else,” Ethan supplied. “Think Bambi becoming Godzilla,” he added helpfully when Xander still looked blank.

“There’s a wonderful image,” he muttered.

“Thanks, I rather liked it myself.” 

Xander ignored him. “Why would someone want to do that?”

“For fun?” Ethan suggested.

“Someone other than you,” Xander said pointedly.

Giles made a helpless gesture. “We need to know more about the Sobekian rites to answer that, I’m afraid.” 

Xander pushed his book aside, knowing they were going to have to shift focus. “Where do we start?”


	18. Chapter 18

“Ok, so we know that the Temple of Sobek was big with the reptile worshiping, and their high priest was big with the mojo,” Buffy summed up after an hour’s intense research. “He made an unbelievably ugly amulet,” she slapped her hand on the picture Giles had found in one of his books, “that could change things into other things, and the markings on the bloodstone Giles sold to the demon woman says it was designed to be used on a cobra.”

Giles winced at the reminder of his mistake and Ethan glared at Buffy for her lack of tact - which was good, since Ethan didn’t know the meaning of the word.

Giles had described the customer to them and it was either the demon lady or her twin sister. Personally, he couldn’t help thinking that Giles really should have a least questioned what he was selling to a woman with long, curly dark blond hair and a tight fitting silk dress - it wasn’t like they hadn’t described her to Giles half a dozen times, and how many people dressed like that outside of Hollywood anyway? But, despite how smart he was, Giles could sometimes be fairly oblivious to a lot of normal human interaction and he’d obviously seen the woman only as a customer, not someone he needed to actually look at and form an impression of. If she had had any obvious demon characteristics, Giles would have immediately shifted into Watcher mode and not only would have noticed every detail about her, but he would have paid attention to what she was buying. 

Which was stupid. And kind of prejudiced. The Mayor hadn’t looked like anything other than a human, and neither did Mr. Olsen except when he deliberately did the sparkly eyes thing, and Clem, the big demon Spike sometimes played poker with, was about as demony-looking as you could get, what with the ears and the hanging folds of skin and all, and he was just about the most harmless being Xander had ever met.

But Giles was obviously mortified about what had happened and he just didn’t have the heart to rag on him about it.

“We’re no closer to knowing what the hell she’s up to,” Buffy continued, “but I do know there’s only one place in Sunnydale where you can get a cobra. You know, between the hyenas and this, they really should close that damn zoo down.”

“Hyenas?” Ethan asked, looking amused by Buffy’s condemnation.

“The Masai Primals. Four students were accidentally possessed by hyena spirits when they interrupted the ritual,” Giles explained crisply. 

“Don’t forget: Principal eaten,” Buffy added, making a face.

“Lovely,” Ethan commented, not looking any less amused.

“Is that how Principal Flutie got killed?” Xander asked, appalled. “I mean, I didn’t believe the wild dogs story but I guess I always assumed…” He stopped. “Sorry, I know it’s old news to you guys. Never mind. Back to the zoo.” He made a rolling gesture with his hands, signaling Buffy to go on with her plan.

Unfortunately, that appeared to be all of it. “I’ll check out the Reptile House and wait for the demon woman to show.” She got to her feet.

“That’s it?” Xander asked in disbelief.

“What? I’m going.”

“Yes, because getting your arse kicked is likely to be so helpful.” Xander was glad Ethan had said that, not him, because it meant that Ethan got the full benefit of the insulted-Slayer glare Buffy was gifting him with. He interrupted before it turned into a slanging match.

“Buffy, can you throw Spike 50 feet across a room?” he asked quietly. “This woman can. I saw her do it. This isn’t a one-on-one kind of thing. You need to take back-up.”

“And weapons,” Spike said from the doorway.

Everyone swiveled around to face him and Spike strolled towards them with his predator’s gait. “Take it you’ve found out where the demon bint is going to be?” he asked.

“She is probably going to the zoo. Tonight after it closes, I would imagine, given that she’s been keeping a low profile so far,” Giles said. “We believe she intends to transform a cobra into something else - something far more dangerous.”

“Well, let’s stop her then. Nasty things, snakes. Can’t have them running around loose.”

Buffy’s jaw dropped for a second, then she shook her head as if dispelling the image of an enthusiastically helpful Spike as a figment of her imagination. Xander just grinned. Spike didn’t give a damn about the snake, he just wanted another crack at the woman.

“So, weapons all around?” he asked, blithely ignoring Spike’s instant scowl and Buffy’s dubious look. “What?” he asked, spreading his hands innocently. “The woman’s all yours. I’m just going for the snake.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the end, five of them went. Xander, Spike and Buffy had selected weapons from Giles’ collection in the back room, Xander choosing a plain, solid axe more suited for wood chopping than the battle axes that Spike and Buffy had selected. 

Giles had quietly announced that he was coming with them, insisting he was the most likely to be able to deal with the transmogrification spell. Tara offered to go to, looking willing but quietly terrified, but Giles had gently pointed out that, while she was infinitely better at magic than he was, he was proficient with a sword and she wasn’t. He’d taken one of the swords down from the wall and flourished expertly as he spoke, illustrating his point. Tara looked relieved and told them she would stay at the shop and continue researching, looking for clues about what a transmogrified cobra could be used for.

Ethan had obviously had no intention of going until he saw Giles arming himself. He made a number of cutting remarks about substandard slayers and old men who didn’t have enough sense to leave fighting to the super powered - remarks which Giles ignored completely - before stalking over to the weapons chest and pulling out a crossbow. 

He straightened up, meeting Giles’ astonished stare with a sneer. “What? I’m twenty times more experienced with dark magic than you are, Ripper.”

“Thought fighting wasn’t your thing,” Spike commented idly, testing the balance of the large, double-bladed axe he’d chosen.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t do it,” Ethan retorted. He loaded the crossbow with the ease of long practice and took aim briefly at the target on the far wall, firing the weapon. “Hmmm,” he said judiciously when the bolt landed off-center in the target. “Pulls a little to the right. I’ll have to compensate.”

They piled into Giles’ convertible for the drive to the zoo. Squashed into the backseat with Buffy and Spike, Xander found himself wishing Giles hadn’t had a mid-life yen for something sporty. His old car had been hopelessly slow and frumpy, but at least the back seat had held three comfortably.

They were making an awful lot of assumptions about this, he thought worriedly. That the zoo was the only place you could get a cobra, that the woman would be alone, that she would want to do the ritual as soon as she could. On the other hand, if she wasn’t there, Xander was quite prepared to kill every cobra at the zoo to prevent them from being used in the ritual. 

Not that the woman couldn’t find a cobra somewhere else, but he’d rather fight her without the distraction of a snake - big or small.

~~~~~~

Rupert stopped the car outside the gates of the zoo and Spike vaulted out of the cramped interior. Leaving the others to sort themselves out, he inspected the locked gates. At only six feet, he and the Slayer could have jumped them easily but the other three would have a bit of trouble. Fortunately, there was a human door set inconspicuously in the wall and it was child’s play to kick that in.

He stepped through the opening, ignoring Buffy’s hissed warning to keep quiet, and looked around. “Which way?” he asked.

“I’m guessing the little picture of the snake is the right way,” Xander told him, lips twitching with barely suppressed laughter, gesturing towards a signpost with multiple arrows pointing in all directions. The arrow with the picture of the snake was helpfully labeled “Reptile House”. 

Spike gave Xander an affronted glare. “Hey, not like I been to a kiddies zoo before. Didn’t know they came with bloody signs for the break-and-enter crowd.”

“And you call yourself a professional.” Xander ducked, laughing, as Spike took a mock swipe at him. 

“If you two are finished,” Rupert said mildly, heading down the narrow paved walkway in the direction the arrow pointed.

The zoo was quiet, the animals asleep in their barns. If there was any security, they were either on a coffee break or in another part of the zoo. It was only a short walk of a 100 yards or so to the reptile building, but Spike found himself on edge. There was something in the air, something that sent a prickle of warning through him. 

Rupert was looking around uneasily as if he felt the strangeness in the air as well, but it was the Chaos Mage who stopped suddenly, his head lifting like a hound catching a scent, then cursed vehemently.

“She’s here,” he said. “She’s started the ritual already.” 

Now that the Chaos mage had pointed it out, Spike could feel it too. There was power building in the air, like a storm moving in. Ancient forces being re-awoken for the first time in millennia and filling the night with the crackle of power. 

“Right, that bloody tears it,” Spike swore. He listened, stretching out his senses, and heard two voices, a male chanting something in an unfamiliar language and the demon bint reciting an incantation - surprisingly, in English. “There’s at least two of them inside,” he told the others.

“Rayne,” he ordered sharply. “You’ve got the only long distance weapon. The second we’re inside, you shoot the bitch. Whatever happens with your shot, reload immediately and go for the male who’s chanting.” Xander made a gesture of almost-protest but subsided immediately when Spike shot him an implacable look. “Slayer and I will handle the woman. You lot take care of anyone else. Clear?” He glanced Xander, relieved to see him nod agreement. Given the way the bint had tossed him around last time, he hated having Xander anywhere near her, but at least Xander wouldn’t try and go for her directly. 

“Right. Let’s go.”

The Slayer was already reaching for the door, jerking it open and the rest of them streamed into the dimly lit building at her heels.

Once inside, they found themselves in a narrow, curving hallway, designed to look like a natural tunnel. They ran together around the corner, the two voices growing louder until the tunnel unfolded into a large open space, the walls pierced by glass-fronted cages. 

The demon woman was standing over a large urn, holding something in both hands as she spoke the invocation. Facing her was a smaller figure in a brown robe, this one obviously a demon, with scabby, diseased looking skin and swept-back, pointed ears visible through long, greasy locks of hair.

Spike took it in with a glance as the group spread out, the Chaos Mage shifting to one side to get a clear shot. They were ignored as completely as if they weren’t there and Rayne set himself and fired the crossbow, the sound of the string’s release completely drowned out by the woman’s raised voice.

“…that it may be reborn ... that it may serve …”

The bolt landed dead center, tearing a small hole in the woman’s leather dress before bouncing off, not leaving so much as a scratch. She broke of her chanting and looked down at the hole in her dress with annoyance. “Hey! I’m in the middle of something here,” she snapped. It was bloody annoying how little concern she showed for their sudden armed presence. From her lack of reaction, she might have been a hostess facing uninvited guests at a cocktail party - a minor irritation at most. 

Ethan quickly reloaded, turning to fire at the minion, who yelped in fear and flung himself to one side, as Spike and Buffy charged the demon woman., the Slayer slightly in the lead. She grabbed the woman’s arm, jerking her around so they were face to face, aiming a punch at the other woman’s face, acting like she didn’t have a perfectly good axe in her hand. 

It was exactly how Spike had figured she’d play it. The Slayer had too much human in her and hadn’t been up against the woman before. Facing someone who looked completely human and weaponless, she lost her ruthless edge and went for the hurt rather than the kill.

Fortunately, Spike had no such scruples. As he’d planned, he was half a step behind the Slayer and slightly to one side, his own axe sweeping around with deadly force as the woman staggered back one step under the force of the Slayer’s punch and dropped the amulet she’d been holding. The weapon caught her square in the back and Spike almost lost his grip on the handle as the lethally sharp blade acted like a blunt instrument instead, bouncing back from the woman and doing no more damage than creating a second tear in her dress.

Spike cursed and swung again. The damn woman might be invulnerable to cutting weapons, but the force of his blow sent her staggering forward and for a moment, he and Buffy had a merry old time of it, bouncing the woman back and forth between them, the Slayer kicking and punching, too close in to use her weapon, and Spike swinging his axe like a club as the woman bitched and complained.

“No fair! Attacking when I wasn’t even looking! Ow!” 

Spike grinned at the pained exclamation - at least they were finally hurting her a little. Buffy dropped her axe and grabbed the woman by the hair, slaming her head repeatedly into the concrete wall while he continued to batter at her with the axe.

It was too good to last. 

“This is no good,” the woman exclaimed. “I’m out of the moment.” She shrugged them off as if they were nothing and suddenly grabbed Buffy by the arms. Ignoring Spike entirely, she threw the Slayer across the room, sending her slamming into the wall with a force that cracked the concrete. Sparing her a quick glance, Spike saw her crouched by the wall, frozen, dazed realization in her eyes. The same look, he suspected that he’d had when he first felt this woman’s strength. 

He snapped his attention back to the fight a fraction of a second too late. The woman had spun around to face him, and she jerked the axe out of his hands, throwing it carelessly away. Spike heard glass break as the axe hit one of the many display windows.

“Dreg! I’m not hearing chanting!” she snapped to her minion as she dodged the blow Spike threw at her, letting it sweep harmlessly past. She was faster than he remembered, grabbing him before he could recover and tossing him across the room as easily as she had the axe. He tried to curl but the wall came up too fast and he impacted with stunning force, his head slamming back into the concrete.

~~~~~~~~

Xander hadn’t expected Ethan’s crossbow to save the day, but he hadn’t expected it to have absolutely no effect either. His second bolt found a more vulnerable target as the hobbit-y looking guy in the brown robe yelped and dived for cover just in time, Ethan’s bolt hissing through the air where he’d been standing a second earlier.

Spike and Buffy charged the woman with weapons swinging and Ethan dropped the crossbow and threw himself forward, snapping: “Ripper, the scroll!”

Giles lunged after the little guy and Xander dragged his eyes away from the beginnings of a ludicrous chase in the dimly lit space, as the hobbit scrambled away, clinging desperately to the scrap of parchment, and Giles and Ethan spread out to corner them.

There was a large urn in the center of the room. A quick glance around showed that one of the display cases had had its glass broken out. No prizes for guessing which inhabitant was probably in the urn. There was nothing else in the space that looked even vaguely mystical 

He winced as he heard Buffy slam into the wall and drop to the ground but forced himself to concentrate on his own job. Setting himself, he swung hard and smashed the butt end of his axe into the urn. The thick clay wasn’t pulverized as he’d expected, instead, the urn cracked badly but held its shape. He lifted his axe for another blow and brought it swinging around almost at floor level.

This time, the heavy clay exploded into fragments, shards flying everywhere as he ducked instinctively and threw one arm up to cover his eyes.

“Hey! You!” 

He lifted his head and straightened, fear slicing through him as he realized that Spike was down. Buffy was dragging herself to her feet, looking dazed but the woman was ignoring both of them as she stared at Xander. “You’re the one who stole my monk.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, but you were kind of torturing him,” he answered. Her hands were empty and his eyes swept the floor. He spotted the large green and gold amulet that Giles had shown them sketches of a few feet away. In the same moment, he saw the cobra, looking distinctly cranky, twisting and writhing in the flat clay bottom, rimmed with jagged shards, that was all that remained of the urn.

“What’s your point?” she said impatiently.

“My point,” Xander shifted his grip on the ax and brought the sharp edge down on the cobra, slicing deeply into the coils, “is that torturing is bad.” The cobra reared upwards at the blade bit into it, then the head flopped forward, twitching onto the floor. 

“Hey!” 

Another swing and the blade buried itself in the head, cutting it in two and Xander was pretty sure this cobra wasn’t going to be able to be used in any more rituals.

For the first time, the woman looked angry and Xander fell back nervously as she advanced on him. “You little weasel, do you have any idea who I am?” She stalked towards him, skirting the mess of bloody snake and clay fragments, bizarrely terrifying in her tight leather dress and high heeled shoes. 

“Umm, no,” he admitted, backing away, his hands clinging tightly to his axe. Given that weapons hadn’t done Spike and Buffy any good, he had serious doubts that his was going to help him at all. He circled away from her as he moved, throwing a quick glance to the side, trying to keep the remnants of the urn between them. 

“Xander!”

Buffy slammed into the woman from the side, knocking her away from Xander and he let out a shaky breath, tightening his grip on the axe, trying to keep his hands from shaking as he brought the butt end crashing down on the amulet, smashing it beyond repair, crushing the jewel and crumpling and twisting the metal.

Hard hands grabbed him and spun him around and he lifted the axe instinctively, then froze as he found himself staring into Spike’s gold eyes. 

“Get out of here. Now! The Slayer and I’ll cover you,” Spike ordered, and pushed him towards the exit, eyes already turning back towards the woman. 

He hated it, but Spike was right. It was long past time to retreat. “Two minutes, Spike, then follow us out.”

~~~~~~~

It was inevitable, of course, that Xander would wait for the Watcher and his boyfriend, who, Spike saw with disbelief, were dragging the woman’s minion out of the room between them.

“Glory!” the minion called desperately, struggling futilely against the strong arms holding him immobile.

“Hey! That’s mine!” The woman flung Buffy to one side with careless ease and stalked after the retreating figures. Spike swore, launching himself across the room at her, slamming into her with bruising force, knocking her off her feet and sending them both to the ground.

She rolled to her feet almost as rapidly as Spike did and glared at him. “Who are you people? Nobody takes my things and gets away with it. First my monk, now my minion. Interrupt my ritual, kill my snake - do you have any idea how hard it’s going to be to find another amulet?”

“Not a clue,” Spike answered truthfully, even as he spun and kicked, staggering her back a step. He kicked at her again but she grabbed him and tossed him across the room again, sending him smashing into the wall. He staggered back to his feet, just in time to see her dislocate the Slayer’s shoulder with one clean jerk.

Buffy let out a sobbing breath, crumpling to her knees and Spike pushed forward off the wall, throwing himself at the woman and knocking her away from the Slayer. The woman grabbed his arms and, for the third time that night, Spike found himself flying through the air. He hit glass this time, crashing through one of the display cases, to land in a tangle of branches and lizards. 

Ignoring the pain, he rolled out of the case, dropping back to the floor, and had to brace himself against the wall for a moment as his legs crumbled beneath him. Two minutes had to have gone by. It was time to go.

“Slayer!” he snapped and saw Buffy’s head turn towards him. “We’re leaving.”

She nodded and Spike saw his own knowledge in her eyes that they were outmatched and needed to get out before the woman killed them. The woman grabbed Buffy and spun her around.

“The Slayer? I’m fighting a Vampire Slayer?” A pained expression crossed the woman’s face that had nothing to do with the fight. “How unbelievably common.” She backhanded Buffy, the casual blow sending her sailing across the room to land with a choked cry of pain.

“I just want you to know…” the woman said conversationally, walking over and staring down at her. “So not impressed.” She illustrated her point by yanking Buffy up off the ground and hurling her across the room again. She landed hard, and crumpled to the ground, lying motionless.

Spike cursed and forced his legs to obey him, taking two running steps and jumping up, grabbing an overhead pipe and swinging his legs up to slam both booted feet into the woman’s back, sending her staggering forward, away from Buffy.

Spike dropped to the ground and yanking Buffy up by her good arm, half carrying, half dragging her toward the exit. 

“What is with you two?” the woman said. “A vampire and a Slayer working together? Don’t the rules mean anything to you?”

Over the woman’s comments, Spike heard the unexpected and welcome blare of a car horn and bit back a sound that would be all too close to a sob of relief. The Slayer was shaking it off and beginning to move forward under her own power, cradling her right arm that hung limply from the dislocated shoulder as she half-staggered, half-ran for the exit.

~~~~~~~~

Giles and Ethan seemed to have things well in hand and Xander looked back as they turned the corner of the hall, seeing Spike tackle the woman and Buffy scrambling back to her feet. He dodged around Giles and ran to the doors, holding them open as the other two men hustled their struggling burden through them. 

“Why are we taking him?”

“Information,” Giles told him tersely, freeing one hand momentarily to fish inside his pocket. He tossed his keys to Xander. “Get the trunk open and start the engine.”

“Right.” Xander ran down the path, heading for the main gate. He had the trunk open and the engine started just as Giles and Ethan manhandled the minion through the gate. They tossed him unceremoniously in the trunk and slammed the lid.

“Get in!” he yelled at them, adrenaline flooding his system.

Ethan and Giles jumped into the car and Xander floored it, the tires squealing as he took off in a long sweeping curve.

“What the hell…!” Ethan yelped as he was thrown sideways as Xander cut back sharply towards the gate.

“Hang on!” Xander put his foot down and aimed for the center of the gate where the two halves met. 

“Bloody hell!”

There was an indescribable sound as metal smashed into metal, the gates giving way under the impact of the speeding car. Xander fought for control as the car fishtailed, then drove recklessly down the pedestrian walkway towards the Reptile House, branches scraping both sides of the car on the narrow path.

Ethan was shouting something but Xander ignored him, braking hard and jerking on the wheel to bring the car spinning to a halt, tail end to the Reptile House. He leaned on the horn, the sound cutting sharply through the night air. 

“Spike! Get out here!” he yelled as loudly as he could and punched the horn again. “Spike!”

The doors slammed open and Spike and Buffy lurched through them, both limping heavily but moving fast despite their injuries. They vaulted over the sides of the car into the back seat, Buffy scrambling ungracefully, one arm obviously out of commission, Spike moving like he was unsure of his legs, both indifferent to how they squashed Ethan between them as they landed.

“GO!” Buffy yelled, twisting around to stare behind them at the entrance to the Reptile House. 

Xander already had the accelerator mashed to the floorboards, heading back down the path to the gate. He caught a glimpse of blonde hair outlined in the doorway before the path curved and they were gone, speeding away through the broken gates and into the quiet night outside the zoo’s walls.


	19. Chapter 19

“Where are you going? The Magic Shop’s the other way.”

Once he was convinced they weren’t being followed, Xander had stopped driving like a crazy person and slowed to normal speeds, but his turn away from the business district had obviously caught Giles off guard.

“Between the evil hobbit in the trunk and the fact that the woman probably recognized you from her shopping trip this afternoon, I’m voting no on the magic shop, maybe for the foreseeable future,” Xander told him. “Any suggestions?” He looked automatically in the rear view miror and cursed when he saw nothing in Spike’s part of the seat. “Spike? Are you ok?”

“Fine, luv.” 

Xander twisted partially around, trying to see behind him, not liking the pain threaded through Spike’s voice. Giles grabbed the wheel when the car swerved. “Xander, pay attention.”

Reluctantly he pulled his attention back to the road and inspiration struck. “The mansion. We can hole up there for awhile.” Before anyone had time to respond - either to agree or offer another suggestion, he had a sudden horrified thought and began frantically digging in his pocket for his cell phone. 

“Tara!” he exclaimed. “She’s still at the shop.” He hauled the phone out and flipped it open, trying to remember what the number was. 

“Allow me.” Giles tweaked the phone out of his hand and dialed quickly. “Tara? I need you to leave the shop immediately. Drop anything you’re doing and walk away. Yes, right now. We’ve stirred up a bit of a hornet’s nest and the demon woman may come to the shop looking for us.”

He listened for a moment, then snapped the phone closed. “She’s leaving and will go back to the dorms and not leave her room tonight,” he reported. “She’ll call as soon as she’s there.”

Xander heaved a sigh of relief and concentrated on driving like a little old lady. Between the kidnap victim in the trunk and the weapons littering the passenger compartment, this was not a good time to get pulled over.

“Why is there an evil hobbit in the trunk?” Buffy asked after a moment. Like Spike, it was obvious from her tone that she was hurting and a quick glance in the rear view mirror showed she was holding one arm against the other, and her face was drawn tight with pain.

“Spot of question and answer would be my guess,” Spike told her. The anticipation in his tone was not a whole lot more reassuring than the pain had been.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The neighborhood was quiet as they pulled into the driveway at the mansion. Televisions sounded faintly in the closest houses and a dog was barking down the road, but the mansion was deserted and Spike climbed slowly out of the car, feeling like a tired human. It was not a sensation he enjoyed, or had experienced often in the last century. He didn’t have any injuries to speak of this time, but his whole body was stiff and sore in a way that just didn’t happen to vampires. Pain throbbed through him, seemingly everywhere at once, and it was difficult to hide that fact from Xander’s worried eyes.

The Slayer was moving even more slowly than he was, struggling to get out of the car without jarring her bad arm. Her ragged breathing audible, at least to vampire ears.

“Buffy, we need to get you to a hospital,” Giles said anxiously. 

I don’t think we can risk that right now.” She winced as she maneuvered her way out of the back seat, face white with pain, cradling her dislocated arm to keep it from moving. Straightening up painfully, she looked at Spike. “Can you give me a hand?”

His eyebrows shot up, surprised, then he shrugged. “Got more experience with breakin’ than fixin’ but I’ll give it a go.”

He’d pulled enough limbs out of joint in his unlife to have a fair understanding of the muscles and tendons involved and was very familiar with the pain it caused. Some vampires did it for fun with captives, like human children pulling the wings off flies. It was an injury that caused a satisfying amount of pain and screaming, without wasting blood better used for feeding.

Putting one hand flat against Buffy’s side, he took hold of her arm with his other hand, and gently began first straightening it to line it up with the joint, then pulling with slow steady force. He concentrated on what her body was telling, trying to feel what was happening inside it as he worked. Finally, after long moments in which he could sense the muscles stretching to the brink of tearing and feel Buffy fighting the pain and the urge to struggle against him, the ball joint shifted and settled, moving back into the socket where it sweetly settled back into where it belong. 

Buffy was breathing harshly by the time he was done, but relaxed almost immediately afterwards, gingerly testing her arm. “Thanks,” she said briefly and gave him a wan smile. “Not my best night.”

“Had better ones myself,” he admitted. He looked around and saw that the others hadn’t moved, the Watcher looking as if he’d only barely held himself back from interfering. Buffy gave them all a reassuring smile.

“I’m good, guys.” She tapped lightly on the trunk. “Shall we unload this guy?”

“Let him wait,” Rupert said calmly. “Let’s go inside and check you two out.” He held up a hand to stay her automatic protests. “I’m sure you are fine, but I would like to see for myself. And a bit of thinking before we question him might not be amiss. I’m sure he’ll stay put for a few minutes.”

Given that the little scabby minion wasn’t even pounding on the trunk lid, demanding to be let out, Spike figured he had a point. The minion was either thoroughly cowed or unconscious, in either case, not likely to cause trouble while they went inside and heated up some blood. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander pulled three bags of blood out of the freezer and put them in the microwave. While they were heating, he pulled out an ice cube tray and shook the cubes into a plastic bag. Handing it to Buffy, he apologized: “Sorry, this is the best I can do.” He supposed they really should keep some human medical supplies as well as vampire at the mansion, but this was where Spike came to heal, not himself, so it hadn’t been necessary until now.

Everyone but Giles settled onto the counter stools and Xander handed Spike a mug of heated blood. “You ok?” he asked quietly, for Spike’s ears only.

“Bit sore, nothing broken,” he answered, which was true, but only just. Being slammed repeatedly into walls ordinarily wasn’t a problem for him - mostly because it didn’t happen very frequently - but the demon woman, for all her lack of skill, had a level of strength he just wasn’t used to dealing with.

“Buffy, are you alright?” Giles asked again, hovering over her uncertainly.

“Not going dancing anytime soon, but I’m of the good, now that my arm is back in place,” she said reassuringly. Her color did look better as she sat there with the makeshift ice bag pressed to her shoulder. She was moving her arm only gingerly, but at least it no longer hurt her the way it had and she was able to move it. She looked at Spike. “You weren’t kidding about how strong she is.”

“Think she’s getting stronger,” Spike told her flatly. “Last time, she didn’t shrug things off quite so easily. Took her down once or twice. Tonight…,” he drained the mug and set it down on the counter. Xander quietly took it from him and refilled it. “She just seemed a little stronger.”

“I don’t like the implications of that,” Giles admitted. “If her strength is growing…” his voice trailed off. “I think perhaps it’s time to ask the fellow in my trunk a few questions.”

Spike perked up. He drained his second mug and absently handed it to Xander. “Good thinking, Rupert. A round or two of kick the minion is always a good time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike cocked his head curiously as Rupert and the Chaos Mage brought the minion in. The fleeting glimpse he’d caught of the thing at the zoo had left him with the impression that the demon was short, but now he saw that wasn’t actually true. The stocky build made the demon seem much shorter than he actually was, but he was certainly taller than the Slayer. Nearly Spike’s height and obviously not very strong, the two humans dragged him in without much difficulty and forced him into a chair, tying him up with a length of rope Xander had produced from somewhere. 

Buffy set down the ice bag and joined him in studying the minion, her nose wrinkling as she took in the greasy hair, the scabby skin and the generally unkempt air. “Not much to look at, is he?”

“I imagine he thinks much the same of you,” Ethan observed. “However, perhaps we should ask him about his associate.”

The demon glared at him, seeming outraged by the remark. “I am merely a humble postulant to the glorious one. How dare you insult her by calling me her associate.”

“Tell us about your boss, then,” Xander suggested.

That just incited a haughty stare. “You will let me go if you do not wish to incur her anger,” the demon said. “I will not betray Glorificus. I will never talk, no matter what heinous torture…”

Actually, you’re talking quite a lot,” Giles interrupted, deadly menace in his quiet tone “Just not about the right things. Tell us why she’s here. What she wants.”

“No word shall pass my lips that would bring peril to Glorificus.,” the demon vowed. “I serve the god and I will never betray her.”

“A god?” Spike interjected, with scathing disbelief. “That skank? The god of what - bad home perms?”

The insult shook the minion out of his calm and he began struggling wildly. “She is the epitome of grace and beauty. When she enters a room, all eyes turn towards her…”

“Right,” Giles said impatiently, cutting him off in mid-flow. “More to the point, why is she doing a transmogrification spell?”

“I will tell you nothing,” the demon spat, giving up the futile struggle against the ropes.

Giles shot out a hand and grabbed him by the throat, squeezing until the minion began struggling for air. “You will tell me anything I wish to know, or I will tear you apart, piece by piece.” His voice was terrifyingly cold and frightening in its intensity.

The minion obviously felt it too. Giles released him just before he fell unconscious, and he sucked in a loud desperate breath, staring at Giles as if shocked by the sudden tearing away of his mild persona, revealing him as something far more dangerous than he appeared.

“Don’t hurt me,” he whimpered.

“We’ll not only hurt you,” Ethan told him with a feral smile. “We’ll enjoy it.” He was suddenly every inch the Chaos Mage, dangerous, deadly and, above all, wild.

Spike shifted to his true face. “And they’re rank amateurs compared to me,” he pointed out cheerfully. “I’ve had a century of practice torturing people and I don’t even care if you talk. I just like torturing things.” His lips twisted up in a grin and he ran his tongue over his fangs as if already tasting the minion’s blood.

The stared wild-eyed at the two men, then at Spike, with a look of stark terror in his eyes and Giles punched him, hard, his fist slamming into the minion’s face without having given any warning at all that the blow was coming.

“I believe we asked you a question,” he reminded with deceptive mildness.

“The spell was to locate the Key,” the minion told them, his words spilling over each other in his haste, even as a trickle of blood began running down his face from his split lip. “The transformed snake would be able to find its hiding place.”

Xander held himself immobile with an effort, struggling not to react, and felt Buffy stiffen beside him. Giles’ face might have been carved from stone. “The Key? What’s that? And why is Glory looking for it?”

“It belongs to her, that’s all I know,” the minion said frantically, looking around the circle of disbelieving faces. “It was stolen from her and she wants it back.”

“I believe he’s lying to us,” Ethan said, almost in a sing-song, like he was really hoping the minion was lying and he would get to do something about it.

“I am only a humble servant of the god. She does not share her secrets with me,” the minion told them desperately.

~~~~~~~~~

Twenty minutes later, they were sure they knew everything the minion knew about the demon woman.

Her name was Glorificus, or Glory, and the minion claimed she was a god. As they had feared, she was looking for the Key. The demon claimed she was from another dimension where she ruled as a god, and that the Key opened a mystical portal between dimensions that Glory would use to return home. There was only a limited time to find and use the Key, and opening the portal involved a ritual the minion didn’t know any of the details of.

Xander was feeling sick, having stood by and watched impassively as the demon was tortured, without uttering one word of protest. He’d simply bit his lip and let it happen, justifying it to himself because they needed the information for Dawn’s sake. He tried to be grateful that the minion needed so little persuasion to talk - a couple of punches and one broken bone had convinced him to spill everything he knew. Still, he knew he wouldn’t have stopped it if it had taken more than that, so he couldn’t give himself any credit. They’d been lucky, not virtuous.

The others - well, Buffy and Giles, were grim faced and silent when they all left the minion to discuss what they’d learned and Xander knew they were as disgusted with themselves as he was. Ethan, on the other hand, seemed as untroubled as Spike by what they had done.

With an inward sigh, he put it behind him. He’d made the choice to participate and he was just going to have to live with it. And if he didn’t like knowing what he was capable of, well that was just too damn bad.

With an effort, he focused on the most worrisome piece of information. “There’s no way she’s an actual mightier-than-thou god. Right?” 

“She does seem a bit lacking in the smiting department,” Ethan observed. He just smirked at Buffy’s muttered “easy for you to say”. “This Glorificus can’t even find her misplaced Key without help, how godlike does that sound?” His flippant tone was at odds with the way his eyes watched them intently. 

Giles cleared his throat uncomfortably. “To answer your question, Xander, it’s not completely impossible, although I would say that it’s highly unlikely that she’s actually a god.”

“On what planet is it not impossible?” Buffy asked, sounding as stunned as Xander felt.

“Well, it rather depends on your definition, I’m afraid.”

“Huh?” Buffy said blankly.

“And so say we all,” Xander agreed. “For future reference, I was kind of hoping I’d get a firm ‘no’, possibly even a ‘hell, no’ to my question.” he told Giles.

“Terribly sorry,” Giles said, with a hint of a smile. “What I meant was, that it’s extremely unlikely that this Glorificus is what we would think of as a god, but that doesn’t mean her minions don’t regard her as such.”

“Makes sense to me,” Spike said with a smirk. “Prefer my minions to treat me like a god.”

Giles ignored that. “It is remotely possible that she really is a god, or at least that she is one in her own dimension. Depending on how old she is, and how long she’s been in this dimension, it’s even possible that she was regarded as a god here at one time.” Xander couldn’t help noticing that Giles was beginning to look intrigued with the possibilities. “There are a number of theories that the legends of the Greek and Norse gods have a core of truth to them. That they are based on racial memories of extremely powerful beings that existed at one time.”

“Like that Star Trek episode where they found the god Apollo on another planet,” Xander said. There was a moment of blank silence and he realized they were all looking at him with disbelief. “Never mind.” At times like this, he really missed Oz. Oz would have understood his reference.

“Something like that,” Giles said dubiously. “However, I believe it is far more likely that we are dealing with someone who has merely convinced some rather pathetic creatures that she is a god. This woman, Glorificus, is powerful, of course, but she has not shown any extraordinary abilities other than unusual strength such as many demons possess.”

Buffy looked a little happier at that reasoning. “You’re right. She’s strong - really strong, but it’s not like she’s throwing bolts of lightning around or anything.”

“Moving on to the next topic,” Ethan prompted. “What do you know about the Key that you haven’t been telling me?” When no one answered immediately, he pinned Giles with a look. “Please, it was obvious you all hated the idea that Glory is looking for the Key.”

Buffy and Giles exchanged glances. “Of course, we hated the idea. All we know about the Key is that it’s supposed to be immensely powerful. We don’t need something as strong as this Glory going after it.”

“Uh huh.” Ethan didn’t even try and hide his disbelief but, to everyone’s relief, let it go. “Who’s on cleanup duty?” he asked, gesturing towards the room with the tied up, unconscious minion.

“What do you mean?” Buffy asked.

“I mean, who’s going to dispose of the body?” Ethan answered bluntly.

“Body? Uh - he’s not dead,” Xander pointed out uneasily.

“Are you planning on letting him waltz home to his mistress and let him spill all your little secrets?” Ethan asked in disbelief.

“What secrets?” 

“That you lot know a great deal more than you’re saying about this mysterious Key, for one.”

“But we don’t…”

“Don’t even start.” Ethan withered her with a look. “You aren’t very good liars. Your reaction had to be as obvious to him as it was to me.”

“We can’t just kill him in cold blood,” Xander protested.

“’course we can,” Spike said. “Xander, he was helping create a monster. He’s a minion to something he thinks is a god, knows all of us by sight, and Glory knows about the shop. Not fancying having him toddle on home to tell his god we tied him up and tortured him.”

“Spike’s right,” Giles told him quietly. “We can’t risk him running back to his mistress and telling her we’re interested in the Key.” His eyes shifted towards Ethan for a fraction of a second but didn’t say anything. “So far, she doesn’t know much about us other than that Spike is a vampire and Buffy is the Slayer,” he flicked a disapproving glance at Spike, who shrugged unrepentantly. “While she may very well assume that the Slayer is the logical one to be protecting the Key, she doesn’t know that, and the longer we can keep her guessing, the better.”

“Xander, I don’t like it any better than you do, but we don’t have a choice. He knows too much.” Buffy stared at him, obviously willing him to remember who the Key was and he reluctantly nodded. In a choice between Dawn and a demon who was helping Glory find Dawn, there was no choice. He nodded, hating himself but not seeing any other option.

“We done with him?” Spike asked. Everyone nodded and Spike turned on his heel and headed back into the living room. There was the sharp sound of bones cracking as Spike broke his neck with casual ease and Xander tried not to think about lines being crossed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Even as a human, Spike hadn’t done a lot of brooding over the state of his soul and the value of life. William the poet had spent his days dreaming futilely of love, not pondering the value of life. Once Drusilla turned him, taking life had been not only a necessity but something he’d reveled in. He hadn’t stopped killing humans because he thought there was anything wrong with it, but for Xander’s sake. And he hadn’t stopped killing, just turned his violence on demons exclusively. He killed for fun, to protect his Territory and his Claimed, and breaking the neck of one worthless, scabby demon had been nothing more than a moment’s effort, forgotten as soon as it was accomplished.

Except for the effect on his Claimed.

Xander hadn’t argued, hadn’t complained, hadn’t said so much as a word about it once the decision was made. But he was lying awake now, staring soundlessly into the dark, and Spike ached for him.

He had very little comprehension of Xander’s belief that killing in general was bad. He got that Xander felt guilty about killing the demon, and that the guilt was eating away at his Claimed, robbing him of sleep, but he didn’t really understand why he felt that way.

All he could do was hold his boy and offer the mute solace of his presence, because he didn’t know the words to say to comfort him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Need to talk to you, Xander,” Spike said quietly in his boy’s ear.

Xander turned to face him. He looked tired, after the long night lying awake, but didn’t say anything about what he’d been thinking. “What’s up?”

“Glory. Need you to be extra careful until we figure out how to deal with her.”

Thick brows swooped together in a puzzled frown. “Why? She didn’t see me in the shop and doesn’t know my name. You, Buffy and Giles are the ones who need to be careful.”

“You’re on her radar now, luv. Not sure she even noticed the rest of us.” 

Xander opened his mouth to object but Spike’s look stopped him before he got a word out. 

“She’s not the slightest bit worried about the Slayer and me,” he admitted. Much as he hated to admit it, the bitch hadn’t seemed to be anything more than slightly annoyed by their combined best efforts. “You’re the only one of the whole bloody lot of us who managed to piss her off.” Despite his concern, his face creased in a proud grin for his Claimed.

“Giles kidnapped her minion,” Xander reminded him.

Spike just lifted his scarred eyebrow. “Didn’t seem to care that much about him, now did she? Maybe a bit upset that we touched her property, but she wasn’t crying over the minion himself.”

He hated how helpless Glory made him feel. Weapons couldn’t touch her and nothing he had done had harmed her at all. It was humiliating that, despite his best efforts, the most damage he’d been able to do was leave a hole in her dress. Bloody embarrassing is what it was. 

“Gonna have to find a way to fight her. Find some kind of weakness, and that may take awhile. Don’t want her hurting you while we’re still spinning our wheels.”

“We’ve got something to go on now,” Xander said after a moment.

Spike made a scoffing noise. “Her name. Might not mean anything, luv. Could have changed it a hundred times already.”

Xander cupped his face in both hands, his palms warm and reassuring against Spike”s skin. “Still, it’s more than we had yesterday. Mr. Okolo will help us check it out.”

“Not losing you Xander,” Spike told him sternly. “Want your word you’ll be careful.”

“I’m always careful,” Xander told him. Spike just looked at him. “Well, almost always.” Xander shook his head with patient amusement. “You worry too much, Spike. I promise you, I won’t do anything stupid like try to fight her. I know I wouldn’t be able to touch her.”

Spike relaxed slightly, despite the fact that Xander wasn’t good about keeping this kind of promise. He gotten better about it, but he still tended to throw himself into the middle of things when others were in danger.

“Good work with the snake,” he said, meaning it. Xander killing the snake and smashing the amulet meant Glory wouldn’t be able to try the spell again, which meant she was that much further from learning that Dawn was the Key. 

And that just got him back into his own cycle of worry. If they couldn’t find a way to deal with Glory, she was going to be able to do anything she wanted to Dawn and they wouldn’t be able to stop her.

And that wasn’t going to happen. One way or another, he’d find a way to protect Dawn.


	20. Chapter 20

If that bloody fucking bitch didn’t do something soon, Spike was going to go insane.

He ducked and spun, almost in the same movement, his foot snapping out in a kick that caught his opponent square in the knee, dropping him with the satisfying crunch of breaking bones. Without stopping, he followed up with a vicious blow, crushing the windpipe of the last of his foes, and she staggered back, hands flying to her throat, gasping instinctively for unneeded oxygen. He shook his head and finished the job by kicking her in the stomach, sending her flying backwards across the floor, to slam into the crowd of watching minions who hadn’t moved in time to avoid the limp body.

Spike looked around himself in satisfaction, unable to conceal his triumphant smirk at the sight of the five bodies littered around the floor. With a careless wave of his hand, he signaled the watching minions to deal with his defeated opponents. None of them were dust, but they would all need blood and a couple days healing before they were fit to hunt again.

It felt good to be able to thrash something. After the tension of the last couple days, waiting for Glory to do something - anything - Spike had really needed the release of violence. 

It was just a bonus that easily defeating five minions simultaneously served as a reminder to anyone in the Court who might be feeling cocky that they weren’t likely to survive any challenge to Spike’s authority that they were foolish enough to contemplate.

Not wanting to lose the sense of relaxation that followed the release of the tension that had been with him since the night they fought Glory at the zoo, Spike abruptly strode out of the Court. He’d make a sweep through his territory, maybe check out the bars and see if he could find any trace of Glory.

It was unbelievably frustrating that she disappeared off the face of the earth like this. They still had no idea where she was living, or why she was lying low this way. Rupert was optimistic, believing the absences were a sign of weakness. 

“Perhaps a need to rebuild her energy after spending her strength fighting you and Buffy,” he’d theorized excitedly only last night. “If that’s true, then the key to fighting her might be to attack on the day after she has expended a great deal of energy.”

Which was all well and good but, even if it proved true, it wouldn’t do them a blind bit of good. So far, his own two encounters with Glory hadn’t left him in anything near fighting trim the next day. If the only way to defeat her was to fight her successfully two days running, they were in a lot of trouble.

His good mood slipping away as he was reminded of the problems with Glory, Spike looked up at the last crimson streaks of sunset still painting the western sky. 

A quick patrol and then home again, he decided. He’d hit the bars tomorrow. Instead, he’d pick up Xander and they’d go to see Joyce. Her doctors had allowed her to return to work this week, although half days only. If all continued to go well, she would be cleared to go back to work full time next week.

It was almost a month since the surgery. Joyce had been back to the clinic in LA twice for checkups and the doctors were pleased with her progress. Joyce had been frustrated that they were being so cautious about letting her return to her regular schedule - she’d been advocating to return to work full time last week - but the doctor had been adamant that she take things slowly. Given that everyone around her was on the doctor’s side, Joyce had bowed to their united front and agreed to follow the doctor’s orders. The doctors wanted to see her at the clinic one more time before she went back to work full-time, so Xander was driving her to Los Angeles again on Saturday. Joyce had protested that she could easily go to the hospital in Sunnydale but Xander had pointed out that she was depriving her daughters of the LA trip if she did that.

Spike approved, even though daylight would prevent him from going with them. He had little faith in the Sunnydale doctors and preferred the ones that Watcher Junior had found for them. Joyce would spend a couple hours at the clinic and Xander had arranged for the Cheerleader to take the girls shopping again. Spike smirked at the thought. Little Bit was being thoroughly indoctrinated by the Cheerleader, absorbing fashion tips at the knee of the master. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander knocked on the door and waited to see if there would be an answer. Mr. Okolo had given him permission to drop by any time, but the elderly demon didn’t have a phone to check if he was home or arrange a time to visit ahead of time. Xander hadn’t quite dared to ask why the ancient demon didn’t have one. Mr. Okolo wasn’t someone he felt comfortable asking personal questions of, but he suspected it had something to do with the nearly immortal demon not liking modern conveniences. Xander was beginning to understand that Mr. Okolo simply felt that, if you wanted to talk to him, the courteous thing to do was come to the house in person. It didn’t really make sense to him not to call ahead, but it was an easy enough thing to do and it wasn’t like Mr. Okolo went out much. 

The door swung open and Mr. Okolo gave him a shallow bow in greeting. “Welcome, Mr. Harris. Your arrival is fortuitous.”

“It is?’ He was there to see if Mr. Okolo would ask his family if the information they’d gotten from the monks was enough to let them identify Glorificus, and he didn’t think his request had been expected.

“Yes. I have company and we were just discussing a problem that you and your friends should be aware of.”

Xander followed Mr. Okolo into the living room and saw the Olsens sitting on the loveseat. They both rose to their feet as he entered and Xander broke into a smile, forgetting his errand for the moment. He hadn’t seen the Olsens much recently and he’d missed the elderly couple. He shook the hand Mr. Olsen extended and gave Mrs. Olsen a quick hug. 

“How are you two?”

“Well. And glad to see you,” Mr. Olsen told him, smiling widely. “Any news?” Giles had filled the demon community in on what they knew about Glory, but that hadn’t been much to go on.

“Nothing new, which is probably good.” Once again, Glory had disappeared off the face of the earth, which was frustrating Spike and Buffy no end, but Xander was more inclined to take Giles’ view that the disappearance meant some kind of weakness that they might be able to use against her. 

Ok, call him an optimistic idiot, but at least he wasn’t taking out his frustration on defenseless punching bags like some Slayers he could name. They’d kept an eye on the Magic Box for a day, but, when Glory had showed no interest in the store, Giles had reopened the shop, pointing out that all their resources were there.

Mr. Okolo gestured for them all to be seated and inclined his head towards Mrs. Olsen. “Please tell Mr. Harris what you have told me. If you will excuse me momentarily, I will bring refreshments.” He slipped out of the room as Xander turned expectantly towards the white-haired woman.

Mrs. Olsen’s face clouded over and she unconsciously reached for her husband’s hand as she looked at Xander. “You know that I do volunteer work at the hospital, right?” 

Xander nodded.

“There has been a disturbing increase in the number of mentally ill patients in the last few weeks,” she told him. “All the patients have the same history, none of them have ever shown signs of mental illness before and the symptoms showed up overnight, with no warning. One day they were perfectly normal and the next they were found wandering the streets, delusional and unable to explain what had happened to them. They can’t speak rationally and don’t recognize their family and friends.” She shook her head sadly. “The doctors are baffled. Mental illness doesn’t just appear overnight like this.”

Mr. Okolo returned, carrying a tray with cups and a pitcher of something that steamed gently. Setting the tray down on the table, he poured and handed around the china cups filled with a warm, slightly muddy looking drink. Xander sniffed at it curiously but the aroma was unfamiliar, neither tea nor coffee.

“It is rashta,” Mr. Okolo told him. 

Xander took a cautious sip. The drink had a heavy, smoky flavor that wasn’t unpleasant, although it took some getting used to. He sipped again and smiled. “It’s good,” he said, mostly truthfully.

“My wife thinks that the symptoms are unnatural,” Mr. Olsen said, after taking a courteous sip from his own cup. “That something has caused this. That we need to look for a non-medical reason.”

“I have been thinking about what you have told us,” Mr. Okolo told Mrs. Olsen. “I seem to remember hearing something when I was young about plagues of insanity sweeping Europe during the middle ages.” His lips quirked up ever so slightly. “Before my time, of course.” 

Xander smiled. He was fuzzy about the dates of the middle ages but Mr. Okolo was around 400 years old and he was pretty sure that was after the middle ages. 

“We were not in Europe during that period,” he continued, “but I will ask my family if they have any information. Perhaps Mr. Giles might also check his sources.”

“Not to change the subject, but would you be willing to ask them if the name ‘Glorificus’ or ‘Glory’ means anything to them?”

After a moment, Mr. Okolo asked quietly: “You have learned the name of the demon woman?”

Xander nodded. “Yes. And a bit more.” He described the attempt to transmogrify that snake, Spike’s opinion that Glory was getting stronger, Glory’s minion, and the information they had learned from the minion about Glory’s possible god-ness and that she might have come from another dimension. The others didn’t interrupt with questions, just listened silently until he finished.

Mr. Olsen shook his head. “The name doesn’t ring any bells, but I will have our group begin checking the name as well.”

“I will see if my family knows anything about either problem that can help,” Mr. Okolo promised.

~~~~~~~

Xander and the Olsens left together, walking towards the Olsens’ house along the quiet residential streets. 

“Xander,” Mr. Olsen began after they’d walked in uncomfortable silence for awhile. “Did I ever tell you that I served in the Korean War?”

Xander had been looking down at the sidewalk, struggling with his guilt. He hadn’t mentioned how they’d persuaded the minion to talk but suspected the others had all guessed. Now he turned his head to look at Mr. Olsen. “No.”

“It was a difficult war.” Mrs. Olsen reached for her husband’s hand, to give support this time, rather than receive it. “Civil wars always are. And there were times that we had to question the local population about an area our troops were moving through.” The eyes holding Xander’s were dark with old memories. “There were times when we had to choose between getting answers and putting our unit at risk.” 

He didn’t say anything more but Xander saw the understanding in his eyes. Mr. Olsen knew what they had done and was prepared to forgive him. “You were at war,” he said, offering his own understanding in turn. “But we aren’t.”

“You were fighting an enemy who is stronger than you and who was planning to become even stronger. You did what you had to, to prevent that enemy from obtaining a powerful weapon. You may have saved many lives by doing so.”

“We don’t know that for sure.” That was the heart of it, that they didn’t know what Glory was up to. They suspected she was evil and trying to take over the town or something but they didn’t know. They’d killed the minion acting on the suspicion. And if they were wrong… 

“No, you don’t,” Mr. Olsen acknowledged. “Just as we didn’t know if the people we questioned had the information we needed. Sometimes you just have to make the best decision you can and learn to live with it.”

Xander wrapped his arms around himself, taking a long, deep breath. Part of him had hoped that Mr. Olsen would just tell him they’d done the right thing. But then, if the old man was inclined to give false comfort, Xander wouldn’t respect his opinion nearly as much as he did. He’d known for a long time now that there weren’t simple answers to the big questions and Mr. Olsen was right. He was just going to have to learn to live with it, like he’d finally learned to live with killing Jesse.

Being a grown-up sucked sometimes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike studied the building through narrowed eyes. 

It was an old boarding house, abandoned for decades from the looks of it. The windows were boarded up and the front liberally decorated with graffiti. This close to the docks, there was a pervasive smell of fish in the air, which was almost enough to cover the faint odor of blood and arousal that clung to the walls of the decaying building.

He tossed his cigarette butt away and rose to his feet, crossing the street and climbing the short flight of steps to the front door. The solid oak door with its heavy brass knob was from another time and the knob turned easily, indicating recent use, despite all appearances.

Spike entered the lair and looked around in disgust. The squalor and the filth weren’t unusual for a vampire lair - no vampire would clean up after themselves so those without minions to do it for them had lairs that looked like an animal’s den: filthy blankets, ratty furniture and the occasional corpse do not make for the Good Housekeeping seal of approval. But this particular house was low class all the way. 

China - now their suck houses had some class, he mused, as his eyes took in the battered armchair in the front hall with a customer being serviced in full view of the front door. Chinese vamps often set up suck houses next door to opium dens. Spike kicked a ragged blanket out of his way and headed for the stairs, a reminiscent grin crossing his face. A bloke could feed and get high all at the same time in China. Not that he’d ever used the suck houses, he just snatched the addicts as they staggered out the back door of the opium parlors. 

Angelus had explained suck houses to him, telling him that only weak vampires used them, threatening to beat Spike bloody if he ever caught the smell of one on him. He snorted. Wasn’t until years later that he’d realized that that’s how Angelus had been feeding, back when he’d first gotten cursed with the soul. First thieves and murderers, then suck houses, then rats. A step-by-step descent into ignominy and disgrace in his attempts to reconcile the soul with the blood lust. Gave himself such airs nowadays over that bloody soul. Didn’t like to remember the early years, before pig’s blood and refrigeration was his salvation from rats.

A hand closed on his shoulder, jerking him out of his memories and turning him to face the house bouncer. A tall, beefy vampire with a crew cut, his massive biceps exposed by the sleeveless leather vest he was wearing. “What are you doing?”

In favor of discretion, Spike decided to not rip the vampire to pieces. “Just havin’ a look, mate,” he said mildly, shrugging off the hold and turning back towards the stairs. “Keep it down.”

“You can’t go up there.” The bouncer compounded his sin by repeating it, grabbing Spike’s arm this time and yanking him around again. 

Spike went with the motion, turning into it and shot out a hand, grabbing the bouncer by the throat. His fingers closed harshly around the jugular, digging deeply into the throat, as the bouncer clawed desperately at his hands, trying to break the implacable grip. “My town, you moron,” he said with deadly calm. “Can do anything I like.”

He shoved the bouncer, hard, sending him reeling backwards to fall full length on the floor and turned towards the stairs again. His sense of smell had already told him most of what he needed to know but he wanted to see it for himself. 

The second floor had a couple of rooms with two or three vamps and their customers each. Not even a separate room for each client, as was standard in even human brothels. 

Pushing open the first door, he saw two more battered armchairs with humans sprawled in them, vampire trulls crouched beside them. The female was feeding off the fleshy part of a young human’s forearm, a small dark-haired man who’s scent was clouded with the smell of drugs and fear and lust. The second vampire was drinking from the wrist of a middle aged man in a dress shirt. Tie tugged loose, graying head flung back in ecstasy, Spike figured the man was getting his money’s worth, judging by the stain on his pants. The vamp drinking from him was a scrawny towhead, the faint stolen flush to his skin saying he’d tended more than one customer that night. None of them looked up as Spike moved on, as silently as he’d entered.

He pushed open the door to the second room, and stopped in the doorway as he took in the scene.

A stained mattress lay on the floor, one end bent up and resting against the wall to form a makeshift couch. Riley Finn sat on the mattress, upper torso bare, his left arm resting on his raised knee, eyes intent on the whore drinking from the veins in the crook of his elbow. Unlike the humans in the next room, Finn looked in control, watching the dark haired woman drinking from his arm with hard, emotionless eyes. He didn’t look up to see Spike standing in the doorway, concentrating on the whore bent over him. “Harder,” he ordered, closing his fist to send more blood pumping down the arm. 

Spike leaned against the jamb and fished out his smokes. He lit one up, seeing Finn’s eyes snap towards the doorway at the sudden flicker of light in the dim room. Tucking his lighter away, Spike took a deep drag, enjoying the way the human had frozen in shocked surprise.

“Know it’s a bit dark in here for humans,” he said casually, “but I think you might have noticed that that’s not your girlfriend you’re snuggled up to,” he pointed out.

Finn snapped out of his paralysis, shoving the trollop away and rolling to his feet, grabbing his shirt and shrugging into it hastily. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

Spike raised his scarred eyebrow. “I’m patrolling my Territory. Unless this is your idea of a coffee break, you can hardly have the same reason for being here.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation for anything I do,” Finn told him, fingers fumbling over the buttons in a way that said he was down at least a pint and feeling it.

“Never said you did. Think you owe the Slayer one.” Spike didn’t shift from his relaxed pose that coincidentally happened to block the room’s only exit. The woman had faded back against the wall, clearly intending to stay out of anything that happened. Pathetic.

“What do you care what I owe her?”

“Don’t really. But you see, this is my Territory. Like to keep tabs on what’s happening in it. And right now, what’s happening is that rumors are going round that the Slayer’s boy toy is frequenting the local suck house.”

“You want me to believe that demons care about what I do?” Finn said disbelievingly, tucking his shirt in and obviously regaining some sense of moral superiority now that he was dressed and not in bed with his whore. “Get out of my way.”

Spike shifted into his true face. “You’ll listen to whatever I bloody well feel like saying and you leave when I let you leave,” he snarled. 

Finn glared at him and launched a roundhouse punch that a blind man would have seen coming. Spike didn’t bother ducking. Instead, his hand flashed out and caught the fist in mid-air, squeezing hard enough to make the human gasp and holding on until his knees began to buckle. Spike dropped his cigarette and fisted both hands in the human’s shirt.

“Demons aren’t interested in you, you pathetic twit. They’re interested in the fact that the Slayer’s boyfriend is paying to have vampires feed off him. It’s not going to take very long for someone to get the oh so clever idea that all they have to do is come here and turn you and then point you at the Slayer and her family.” Finn’s eyes widened like the idea had never occurred to him and Spike shook him, hard. 

“Which means that one day soon, the Slayer’s going to come home after a hard day, put her feet up on the couch and be offed by her mum and sis before she knows she’s in danger.” He shook Finn again to make sure his message was getting through. “Now, personally, I’d like it if you were turned, because then I’d get to kill you. But I like Joyce and I don’t want to see her hurt.” He shoved Finn away from himself so hard he slammed back into the floor, hitting his head against the wall with a crack. “So you will get up off your arse and get the fuck out of here, now. And if I ever hear about you coming back here, I’ll kill you.”

Finn sat up slowly, his hand going to the back of his head and wincing as he explored. Spike could smell the fresh blood scent adding to that already in the room. “Thought you didn’t kill humans.”

“When it comes to you, I’ll make an exception.”

Finn looked away, obviously hearing the deadly seriousness in his voice. He staggered to his feet, using the wall for support, and began walking unsteadily towards Spike. This time, Spike stepped aside and let him leave. 

He stayed one minute longer, eyeing the two-bit trull who was still trembling in the corner, feeling nothing but scorn from the emaciated woman who someone should stake on general principles. “One word,” he said quietly. “I hear one word about this on the street and you will beg for death before I dust you. We clear?”

He barely waited for her hasty nod, spinning on his heel and stalking out. Once outside, he hesitated, watching Finn walking down the street. Every vampire in the house would have heard what he said to Finn and he wondered whether he should burn the place down to prevent anyone from acting on any ideas he’d put into their heads. He smirked, picturing it. He hadn’t burned anything down since he torched the Initiative base. 

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, suddenly realizing what Finn had said to him inside where prying vampire ears were almost certain to have heard them. “Thought you didn’t kill humans,” and like a complete idiot, he’d gone and confirmed it.

No choice now and nothing random like a fire would do. It was too easy for rats to flee a burning building and there were too many exits to seal them all. Spike stood still for a moment longer, stretching out his senses and making sure of the location of every vampire in the building. There were seven of them, and four human heartbeats. Nothing to it.

Spike pulled a stake out of his waistband, sadly missing his duster with its multitude of pockets, and shifted to his true face. This beat the hell out of babysitting Finn on his way back to his apartment, he thought gleefully, which had been his first impulse. Not because he gave a damn if Finn made it home alive or not, but because he was worried about the safety of the humans under his protection that Finn was endangering by making himself a target for every demon in town who heard what the Slayer’s boyfriend was doing. 

Maybe it was time the Slayer learned what her boyfriend was getting up to, he thought as he climbed the steps up to the front door on silent feet. Wouldn’t do for her to be the last to know, he thought virtuously.


	21. Chapter 21

“Run that by me again,” Xander ordered. He had to have heard that wrong.

Spike obliged with obvious enjoyment. “Captain Cardboard himself. Big as life. Bit of a new look for him,” he said judiciously, “what with the two-bit whore attached to his arm his arm an’ all. Damn shame I didn’t have a camera. Would have made a nice 8x10 glossy for the Slayer, don’t you think?” 

“Don’t even joke about that,” Xander said with a shudder. That was all they needed: Buffy having another agonizing break-up with an unfaithful boyfriend. She’d been a basket case for weeks last year over that jerk whatshisname and she’d only spent one night with the guy. Finding out that Riley was cheating on her with a prostitute - and a vampire prostitute at that… 

Spike had to be mistaken. There was no way that Riley Finn, highly-trained, gung-ho member of the former Initiative, would let his guard down around a demon like that. The man could barely manage to be civil to peaceful demons that had been vouched for and accepted as allies. Oh, Riley managed to not say anything - barely, but Xander knew the soldier thought he was crazy to be with Spike - and it wasn’t because they were both guys. “Riley hates demons,” he protested, “especially vampires. Why would he go to a vampire whore house?”

“Dunno, some of you humans seem to like what we have to offer,” Spike leered at him, pulling him back down under the covers. He’d sat up in shock at Spike’s casual announcement that Riley Finn, all-American boy, had been a regular customer at a vamp brothel. And saying it again in his head didn’t make any more sense than it had the first time. His brain was obviously not going to be wrapping itself around the concept any time soon.

He let himself be tugged back down under the covers. Spike hated it when he left the bed in the morning and took his warmth and scent with him. Sneaking a quick peek at the clock, Xander decided he wouldn’t get fired if he spent another 15 minutes in bed. He helped Spike pull the covers up around their shoulders, cocooning them together in a nest of sheets as he shifted so that he was lying on top of Spike. 

As much as Spike loved his human warmth, Xander adored the cool silk over hard muscle that was Spike’s body. Unlike humans, vampires had no internal source of heat, so their bodies tended to be room temperature. As a result, Spike’s flesh was always cooler than Xander’s and, while he might jokingly grumble about Spike treating him like a living hot water bottle, there was nothing like snuggling up with a partner who never sweated and whose body was a cool oasis on hot summer nights. 

Spike’s hands were roving - big surprise - but Xander’s brain was still stuck on Riley and the suck house and that meant arousal was non-existent right now. He gave Spike an apologetic smile, knowing his vampire had assumed Xander was caving in to Spike’s regular morning request for a quick hard fuck before Xander left for work. 

Not surprising, given that Spike talked him into it at least once a week. If Xander wasn’t perpetually turned on by his sexy lover and hadn’t perfected the art of the 60-second shower, he would have long since gotten a reputation for tardiness at work that so far he had avoided by the skin of his teeth. But there was no way his usual instant response to Spike’s touch was happening after Spike’s description of Riley and the blood whore.

With an apologetic smile, he evaded Spike’s attempt to kiss him. “Spike,” he began, and his lover’s hands stilled at the seriousness in his voice. “Why would someone go to a place like that? Why don’t the vampires just kill them?” He’d never heard of a suck house before. It sounded like Riley had just wandered into a vamp nest and offered himself as a snack to the residents.

“Humans get off on the bite.” Spike traced a finger over Xander’s Claim Mark and Xander shivered. The Claim scar was an intensely erogenous spot for him and had been since the day Spike had first bitten him. “If it’s done right, can make a human come just from bein’ bitten.” Despite the fact that he was answering seriously, his lips quirked up and he smirked at Xander knowingly, still pressing his fingers against the Claim scar.

Xander wasn’t going to let that one pass. He ducked his head and bit Spike’s nipple sharply, feeling the shiver in response and the way Spike’s cock twitched. He lifted his head again, staring mockingly into the blue eyes. “Humans aren’t the only ones, oh great Master Vampire. This particular human has made you scream like a girl and come in your pants like an over-eager teenager just from biting you.”

“Oi!” 

Before he could blink, Xander found himself flipped over and pinned by a yellow-eyed demon. He laughed up into Spike’s outraged face, arching upwards and rubbing against Spike’s burgeoning erection teasingly. “Truth a bit much for you?” he taunted, feeling his own cock stirring with interest.

Spike growled and swooped down, taking his lips in a savage kiss, his mouth plundering Xander’s, Xander pulled against the hands pinning his wrists down, wanting to wrap his arms around Spike and Spike obligingly released him, burying his hands in Xander’s hair instead as the kiss went on and on.

Xander dug his hands into the lean muscles of Spike’s back, spreading his legs and wrapping them around the slender hips which were grinding down into his own. All thoughts of Riley fled before the onslaught of desire and his head flung back, the sound of his panting breaths filling the air as Spike abandoned his lips to tease and torment his Claim scar, tonguing and nipping at the sensitive mark. 

It was quick and hot and utterly arousing as their cocks slid against each other, the friction bringing them rapidly to completion and Xander let out a low, harsh cry as Spike sank needle sharp teeth into his Claim Mark, renewing it and sending Xander over the edge into orgasm.

His shot his release between them and his seed was joined by Spike’s as the vampire growled triumphantly, jerking his hips against Xander as he pulsed out his own orgasm between their entwined bodies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He made it to work on time but only just. Usually he walked to work, but today, he’d grabbed Spike’s keys off the dresser and run out the door, Spike’s laugh chasing down the stairs, the vision of his naked lover, lying in the nest of rumpled sheets, yellow eyes glowing with sated passion as Spike watched him frantically yank his clothes on, was enough to make him wish he could just call in sick.

Driving with almost Spike levels of disregard for traffic laws and gravity, he made it to the site with one minute to spare. He endured the good-natured laughter of the guys who’d seen him sprinting in from the parking lot and headed for his work area. His team was shifting finished woodwork into place and fitting it together, tasks that could be done on auto-pilot, for which he was grateful. He needed to think about what Spike had said. 

Despite having allowed himself to be distracted - Xander let a self-satisfied smirk cross his lips - very distracted - he had heard enough to know that Riley was putting himself and everyone around him in danger. And he wasn’t going to allow that to happen. He just didn’t know what he was going to do about it yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s good to see you, Sergeant.” 

Sgt. Morgan smiled. “Always a pleasure to see you as well, Xander. How’ve you been?” He shook Xander’s hand warmly and gestured for him to enter his office.

“Mostly good. A little more than the usual Hellmouthy stuff recently, but you know about that already.”

“Yes. Anything new on this Glorificus?”

He shook his head. “Not so far. Giles is deep in piles of books and Mr. Okolo is checking with his sources, so hopefully someone will find something to tell us what the real story is. I’m just glad she seems to take a lot of time off between making with the mischief.” He was still hoping that the report that she was a god was grossly exaggerated but so far Giles had come up empty. Which had to be a good thing. I mean, you’d expect a god to merit at least a mention in Top 100 Evils of all Time. Not that Giles actually had a book called that but so far he hadn’t found a single mention of anything going by the name of Glorificus. 

“True. But, I suspect that isn’t why you’re here.” Sgt. Morgan gave him a searching glance and Xander pulled his thoughts back to the present.

“I’m afraid not.” Xander had had a couple hours to practice but hadn’t come up with a good segue so he just jumped right in. “Have you ever heard of something called a suck house?” 

Sgt. Morgan stilled. He sat back in his chair and regarded Xander thoughtfully. “Yes, I have,” he said after a moment. “Sunnydale has one?”

“We did. Spike cleaned it out last night.” Spike had filled him in on the details of his purge of the suck house, even if his ideas of ‘details’ had tended to run along the lines of: vamps dust, humans fled, problem solved.

“Why bring it to me? So far, it seems like Master Spike’s problem and one he’s handled quite nicely.”

“Riley Finn was a customer.”

The silence that followed was deafening. 

“He apparently went enough times that word got around,” Xander continued when it looked like the other man wasn’t going to comment. “That’s how Spike learned about it. He was there last night, just before Spike cleaned it out.”

“Was he now,” Sgt. Morgan said grimly and Xander almost flinched at the quiet tone that promised worlds of punishment for a disobedient recruit. Not for the first time, he wondered just how scared recruits were of Sgt. Morgan. He knew how loyal the older soldiers were to the long-time drill sergeant, but Xander suspected he terrified the soldiers when they first met him.

“Buffy doesn’t know yet,” he said in response to the unspoken question. “I figure she’s got enough on her plate right now - with her mom still recovering from surgery and all,” he explained hastily. Sgt. Morgan shot him a curious look but didn’t say anything, and Xander felt like smacking himself. He really needed to get better about remembering who knew what before opening his mouth. “Anyway, I know I’m probably messing with the chain of command, but is there any way we can get him transferred out of town - like to Siberia or somewhere?” He met the older man’s eyes unflinchingly. “Riley’s never been a friend,” he admitted candidly, “but this isn’t personal. I know I’m not the most unbiased person when it comes to dealing with him, but going to that place put Buffy and her family in danger. I know the house is closed, but…” he shrugged. If Riley was addicted to the bite, like Spike had suggested, well, one thing Sunnydale wasn’t short on was that particular drug.

Dark eyes studied him for a minute, then Sgt. Morgan nodded, apparently satisfied. “I agree. If Finn is so far gone he’s going to blood whores, he’s a liability.” He shook his head slowly. “I regret to say I’ve seen this before and it frequently ends badly.” He chewed on his lip thoughtfully for a moment. “I believe I can arrange things and the sooner the better. Would you like me to inform Buffy?”

Xander shook his head. “I’ll tell her. You shouldn’t take the heat for something I’ve done.”

Sgt. Morgan raised his eyebrows. “You haven’t done anything,” he pointed out. “You just brought the situation to my attention. I’m going to see that Finn is transferred out of town before the buzz from last night’s high fades.” Xander had never heard Sgt. Morgan speak with such savage disapproval. He held Xander’s eyes with his own. “This isn’t just a soldier going to a whore house on leave, Xander. To reach the point of going to a suck house, Finn must be deep into addiction to the bite. That endangers everyone around him, not just Buffy and her family. Every soldier who works with him has been in danger of being killed or turned, if things went wrong at the suck house.” His grim assessment matched Xander’s: that Riley had recklessly risked the lives of everyone he knew by going to that place. 

“He disgraced the uniform by going there, Xander,” Sergeant Morgan finished quietly. “That’s something I don’t tolerate from anyone.”

Xander didn’t really understand that kind of patriotism but he knew the words weren’t just empty platitudes to the other man. He couldn’t help wondering how Riley felt about Sergeant Morgan. After the battle in the Initiative, Buffy had told Riley about Sergeant Morgan, with the sergeant’s permission. Riley had seemed to accept it, but Xander couldn’t help wondering if he really had. If he understood that Sergeant Morgan was deeply committed to the U.S. Army, that he’d dedicated his whole life to the service, or if Riley had clung to the suspicion that a demon couldn’t really be a real soldier because he wasn’t fully human.

Either way, he suspected it didn’t really matter any more.

He got to his feet. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know if I was overreacting or not.”

Sgt. Morgan stood with him and extended his hand, clasping Xander’s in a strong grip. “You’re protecting the people you love. And Finn as well - even if he might not appreciate that right now. That’s never overreacting.” He waved a hand. “Now clear off. I have calls to make.”

Closing the door behind him, Xander heard the sergeant’s deep voice growling into the phone: “Tell Major Finn I’d like to see him in my office right away.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike was not pleased. Oh, Xander had arranged for the Slayer’s toy soldier to be transferred out of town and out of their hair neatly enough, but a quick, quiet transfer wasn’t particularly satisfying. He might respect Buffy and even regard her as a worthy opponent, even in an almost friendly way but that didn’t mean he had to give up the fun of torturing her over her bad taste in men. He was still evil.

“Alright,” he agreed ungraciously, scowling at Xander. “But I still get to tell her about the suck house. It’s something she needs to know as the Slayer - just how addictive the bite is,” he finished with a flash of brilliant inspiration, smiling innocently at his lover.

“You can’t tell Buffy that!” Xander objected immediately. “I mean, first off she’d be devastated. Second, she be freaked and angsting and not focusing on her job.” He lowered his voice as he continued, until Spike could barely hear him. “She’s supposed to be telling Joyce about Dawn this weekend and you know she’s going to put it off if she gets half an excuse, because she’s freaked out even worse than I was about telling her mom that Dawn is… adopted.” 

Spike narrowed his eyes at Xander’s quick counter. Dammit, his boy was right. Buffy would seize on the excuse to not tell Joyce about Dawn being the Key, and that was the first step towards telling Dawn. He agreed with Xander on that. Joyce would get the majority of the fallout if Dawn fell apart and, being raised human - at least for the last six months or so - she was bound to be upset when she learned the truth. Humans put up so much fuss when they found out they weren’t quite what they’d thought they were. Dru’s family had reacted like terrified children when they discovered she had the Sight, and that was a bloody useful ability, one any sensible demon would have been delighted to learn they possessed.

In the interest of protecting Dawn, he’d give up tormenting Buffy. It was only a matter of time before Dawn found out the truth. Spike had too much experience not to know that these kinds of things always came to light. And usually in the most inconvenient way. He didn’t want little Bit to find out the hard way that she wasn’t “normal”. Seeing the way first Xander, then Buffy had reacted, Spike rather thought that Dawn wasn’t going to take the news well either. Better to come from the people she thought of as family than through circumstance.

“Fine. But if the Slayer doesn’t get off her arse and tell her mum, I’m doing it.”

“Agreed. Joyce is strong enough now. She’s been back to work for over a week and hasn’t had any headaches or anything.” Xander smiled widely at that. 

They’d all been anxious about Joyce returning to work full time, but everything had gone well. She hadn’t been overtired or in pain and seemed fully recovered and back to normal. Her hair had even grown enough that she no longer had to wear the scarves she’d been sporting. Her new, shorter hairstyle looked smart and elegant, her daughters having taken her to a good hairdresser who’d evened out the long and short hair and Joyce had seemed full of her old energy this past week. She could handle the news about Dawn and then she and Buffy could sit down and talk to Dawn.

“Still wish I’d had a camera,” he grumbled for form’s sake.

Xander just laughed. “Like I want to see photos of a half-naked Riley anyway.”

“Should think not,” Spike snorted. “Nothing worth looking at on that one.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door swung open in response to his knock and Riley’s big frame filled the half-open space, blocking his view into the room. For a long moment, the soldier just stood there, staring at him expressionlessly. 

“Can I come in?” Xander asked finally, when it became obvious the other man wasn’t going to say anything. 

“It’s a free country.” Riley turned away, retreating back into the room, leaving the door half open. Xander hesitated, then pushed the door wide and entered.

There was a suitcase on the bed and Riley was in the middle of packing, an activity he’d already returned to, folding clothes with neat precise movements. 

“Sorry if I’m not being sociable,” Riley said bitterly, his back to Xander, “but I’m on a bit of a tight schedule.” 

“I know. I came here to tell you why I called Sergeant Morgan.”

“You don’t need to explain.”

“Riley, it wasn’t because…”

Riley set down the shirt he’d been folding and turned to face him. “Xander, you did the right thing.” His voice was filled with self-loathing. “I lost control. I was endangering myself and others.” He sat down suddenly, elbows resting limply on his knees, eyes on the far wall where a lighter patch in the old paint marked the spot where a picture had recently hung. 

“I don’t know what the hell I thought I was doing,” he said after a minute. “Buffy was pulling away from me, and I felt useless and unwanted, and the vampires - it was like they needed me. Buffy doesn’t you know.” He slid a quick at Xander before returning his gaze to the wall. “Not the way I want her to. She loves me, but she doesn’t need me. A lot of the time, she forgets about me completely.”

“Riley…”

Riley interrupted him, talking right over his half-hearted protest. “I kept telling myself, every time, that it would be the last time. That I wouldn’t go again. That I’d stake the vampire right after it drank from me… but that’s no excuse.” 

Xander didn’t know what to say. He’d expected anger and recriminations, not acceptance. He’d come prepared to justify what he’d done, hoping that Riley wouldn’t take his anger out on Buffy. He hadn’t expected to find himself sympathizing with the other man, who it seemed had finally understood he had a problem.

“They’re sending me home to Iowa.” Riley’s mouth twisted with bitter humor. “A vacation in middle America to get the Hellmouth out of my system. Dusk to dawn curfew for a while.” 

“Sounds like a good idea,” Xander told him quietly. 

“Maybe.” Riley didn’t sound convinced. “Will you do me a favor?”

“If I can.” Xander wasn’t about to commit himself.

Riley fished an envelope out of his pocket. “Will you take this to Buffy? I can’t talk to her, but I don’t want to just walk out on her without even a word of explanation.” 

Xander took it hesitantly and Riley gave him a humorless smile. “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her about the suck house. Just that the army is transferring me until I get my head on straight.” He looked at Xander, meeting his eyes squarely for the first time since he entered the room. Xander was surprised by the regret and bitter acceptance in his eyes. “I told her not to wait for me. That I don’t know if I’m coming back.”

“There’s a lot of good you can do in this world that doesn’t have anything to do with demons,” Xander said, when the silence had stretched out to an uncomfortable length. He wanted to add something about Riley being a good person, but he didn’t want to sound condescending. According to Buffy, Riley was a good man. It was just the Hellmouth and Maggie Walsh that had messed with head and made him act like an idiot, and a dangerous one at that. A good man in over his head. Xander suspected there was a lot of truth in that. 

Riley’s jaw tightened. “I can’t exactly say thank you, but I expect that in the long run this will be for the best.”

“I hope so.”

Riley turned back to his packing and Xander hesitated awkwardly, then just slipped out the door quietly without saying anything. He was glad that Riley had decided against talking to Buffy. Given her track record with relationships, that would have just turned into a big scene, and Buffy was going to be dealing with enough already just learning that her relationship was over and her boyfriend was leaving town. An ugly breakup on top of that was to be avoided at all costs and he appreciated that Riley was going to be straight but not brutal about it. The last thing that Buffy needed to know was that Riley had cheated on her with vampires before breaking it off.


	22. Chapter 22

Buffy crumpled up the letter and sat holding it, staring angrily out over the front lawn. Xander sat beside her, deliberately looking down at his hands, wanting to give her as much privacy as he could. Dawn was still at school and Joyce was at work. He’d asked Buffy to meet him at the house, knowing how little privacy she had at the dorm, even without a roommate.

“So that’s it?” she said tightly. “He doesn’t even have the guts to tell me to my face he’s running out on me?”

Xander winced. “I’m not sure…” he began uncomfortably.

“Don’t.” Her angry voice cut him off. “Don’t make excuses for him.” With a sudden convulsive move, she flung the wadded up letter away. The light-weight ball of paper didn’t go far, dropping soundlessly into the bushes just past the porch railing. 

“He left me, Xander. After everything we’ve been through, he’s just walking away. And all he has to say for himself is ‘sorry’ and he hopes that I can forgive him someday.” Despite her dry eyes, her voice was rough with unshed tears. “He didn’t even tell me why. Just some bullshit about being transferred.” 

Her gaze swung towards him in sudden accusation. “You knew. You knew he was leaving and you didn’t say anything. He gave you that letter. If he had time to see you, then he sure as hell had time to explain things to me.”

Xander hesitated. He’d wanted to spare Buffy knowing what exactly Riley had gotten involved in but he hadn’t come up with anything else to explain Riley’s sudden decision to leave.

“He wasn’t given a choice, Buffy. He was transferred out of town for a reason.” He met her eyes squarely. “He didn’t want to see you because he knew that if he did, he’d have to explain, and he didn’t want to hurt you more than he had to. He didn’t want you to know what he’s been doing.” 

“What are you talking about?”

Xander prayed that Buffy was as ignorant of suck houses as he had been before Spike enlightened him. “He got addicted. To something you pretty much can only find on the Hellmouth,” he told her. “I found out about it and confronted him. We both agreed he needed to leave before he got himself or anyone else killed.” He wasn’t about to drag either Spike or Sgt. Morgan into this. If Buffy got angry with anyone over Riley leaving, it should be him. Or Riley.

“Addicted?” Buffy asked disbelievingly. “Riley doesn’t do drugs. He’s like Mr. Clean Living, my-body-is-a-temple guy. Addicted to what?”

“It’s not that kind of addiction,” he said uncomfortably. 

“Then what kind is it?” Buffy demanded. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Yeah, he should have known he’d never be able to bluff his way through this. “He’s been letting vampires drink from him. He’s addicted to the bite.”

She shook her head, her eyes wide with disbelief. “That’s crazy. No-one would…”

He cut her off. “You let yourself be bitten by Dracula.” 

Color rose in her cheeks. “Not willingly. He was trying to kill me,” she said defensively.

“So, you didn’t hide the bite mark from everyone?” he reminded her pointedly. “You didn’t spend the day thinking about him biting you again? If Spike hadn’t killed him, you wouldn’t have gone to find him the next night?” 

The color deepened. “Fine. But that was Dracula, not just an ordinary vampire. He had… powers. And Riley hates vampires. There’s no way…”

“He didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did. He left town because he was putting himself and everyone else in danger as long as he couldn’t stop craving the bite.” He put a hand out tentatively, then let it drop without touching her. “He needed to leave, Buffy, before some vampire went too far and killed him,” he told her gently, then wished he’d kept his mouth shut as she frowned, puzzled.

“Went too far,” she repeated. “How…? How was he getting bitten without being killed?” she asked suspiciously.

Left with no choice, Xander reluctantly explained the suck house to her, leaving out the fact that the human customers got off on the bite sexually. Buffy stood up halfway through his explanation and stalked across the length of the porch with short, angry strides. She turned to face him when she reached the end, fists clenched and looking like she was ready to punch someone any minute. 

“So you’re telling me that people pay money to have vampires bite them?” 

Xander nodded.

“Where is this place?”

“Gone,” he said quickly. “Spike cleaned it out two nights ago, as soon as he found out about it.”

And that was exactly the wrong thing to say, he realized belatedly. Like Spike, Buffy took her revenge very personally. It was never enough to know that someone had taken care of the problem for her. For one moment, he thought she was going to lose it entirely, but then she whirled around and grabbed the railing with both hands, holding so tightly the wood groaned in protest. She bowed her head and her ragged breaths were the only sound as she fought for control, clinging to the railing like it was her only anchor in a world gone insane.

“How long has this been going on?” she asked brokenly. “How long has he been lying to me?”

“I don’t know,” Xander told her truthfully. “I do know that he didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She laughed bitterly, straightening up a little but still not turning to face him. “And that makes it all better, I suppose.”

“Of course not. Buffy…” 

“No!” She spun to face him, her eyes were red-rimmed but her cheeks showed no sign of tears. “The man got himself bit by a vampire. He lied to me. And now he’s run off without even having the guts to try and salvage anything from our relationship.” Her laugh was bitter. “Tell me that you understand, Xander. Because I sure as hell don’t.”

“He’s an addict, Buffy. There’s nothing to understand. Nobody just wakes up one day and decides to become addicted. They’re thinking a drink would make them feel good, not ‘I guess I’ll go get myself addicted’,” he said sharply, speaking from his own bitter experience of growing up with an alcoholic. He hadn’t cut ties with his father because the man was an alcoholic. He’d done it because his father refused to accept his addiction or do anything about it. At least Riley was trying to stop. “He left because the Hellmouth is the worst place for him to be, not because he doesn’t love you.” His voice gentled. “He can’t get better here, Buffy. And he has enough sense to know that.”

“But why didn’t he come to me? Why didn’t he tell me what was going on?” Bewildered hurt was replacing the anger.

“He didn’t want you to know. He didn’t want anyone to know.”

“I could have helped him.”

Xander shook his head, aching for her. “You’re the Slayer, Buffy.” He got to his feet and crossed over to where she leaned against the railing. “Without meaning to, you remind him of what he’s trying to avoid. If Riley’s problem was alcohol, would you expect him to stay sober if he lived with someone who worked in a bar all day and came home smelling of booze every night?” He pulled her into his arms, relieved when she buried her head in his chest and let her tense muscles relax. 

“What does it say about me that I didn’t even know he had a problem?” she said, her voice breaking. “I love him and I didn’t even know.”

“It says that Riley got good at hiding things from you. It says that he’s an addict, and addicts lie, especially to the people they love.” She shook her head, her hair shifting against him at the small movement. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Buffy. This isn’t your fault.”

She didn’t answer, didn’t move, but after a moment, Xander felt the dampness of tears against his shirt. He stroked her hair, making soft soothing noises, and just held her. Later, she would be ready to listen if he pointed out that she and Riley had spent more time at odds this year than in harmony. For right now, she needed time to mourn the loss of someone she loved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting in the magic shop three days later, Xander closed the book he’d been reading and shoved it away. 

“Nothing?” Buffy asked wearily.

“Nothing,” he confirmed. “Nada. A big fat zero.”

For almost the first time, Giles’ books were proving useless. They hadn’t found a single reference to Glorificus and they were running out of books to check. The demon community had drawn a similar blank, even Mr. Okolo’s relatives hadn’t heard of Glory. 

“I still think this means that she’s not important enough to put in the books,” Buffy told him, slapping her own book closed and then sneezing as the book took its revenge with a puff of dust. 

They were reduced to reading books that hadn’t been opened in years - mostly because they were completely useless: crumbling diaries of mad visionaries, books whose information had been rendered obsolete decades, if not centuries earlier, and what Xander swore was a demon’s elementary school primer on other demon species.

Buffy had been quiet, pitching in to help with the research with little of her usual joking complaints. She’d spent a lot of time in the training room, beating up on the equipment, since Giles and Sergeant Morgan had unceremoniously taken her off patrol for the last three nights. 

How they’d managed that, Xander still didn’t know. Especially since Riley was an absolutely taboo subject. The soldier’s name hadn’t been mentioned even once in their research sessions and even Spike and Ethan had managed to go without commenting on his disappearance - at least in front of Buffy. Buffy was burying her hurt and anger, working through it on her own. From her conversation, you wouldn’t know anyone named Riley Finn even existed.

Giles pulled his glasses off and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I fear we are running out of options. And, much as I would love to believe that Glory simply isn’t important enough to be in the books, I don’t think we can make that assumption. The problem is we’ve exhausted the materials I have here, and we’re still coming up empty.”

Buffy raised her head from the table. “You have more books somewhere…?” she asked curiously, then her eyes widened and she shook her head vehemently. “Oh, no. No way. The Council tried to kill me. And they fired you. No way are we going to ask them for help.”

“I don’t think we have a choice, Buffy. The resources that the Watchers Council has at their disposal are far greater than my own. I mean the Central Library alone…”

“Don’t talk about the books again. You get all … and sometimes there’s drool.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that,” Ethan said. He’d refused to help with the research for the last two days, telling them they were wasting their time. Instead, he’d spent the time puttering around the shop, doing god knows what with various herbs. Xander assumed it wasn’t dangerous because Giles hadn’t said anything.

“My mythical drool notwithstanding,” Giles told them. “The Watchers Council has the most extensive occult and demonology reference library known to humans. If anyone has anything on Glory, it’s the Council.”

“I don’t trust them,” Buffy repeated. Her eyes flickered in Ethan’s direction and then back to Giles and she frowned, obviously wanting to say something about Dawn but not daring to. “I haven’t taken orders from them in years and you were fired. Why would they help us?”

“Good question,” Ethan muttered, leaving the counter and coming to join them at the table.

“Because we are on the same side. If Glory is as big a threat as she seems to be, they won’t want her winning.”

“On the other hand, they’ve undoubtedly been hoping to get rid of Miss Summers for years now,” Ethan pointed out maliciously. “This may be their best chance yet.”

Giles’s exasperation showed clearly. “You’re not helping.” Ethan smirked.

“I know, and it just sickens me.” 

Xander cleared his throat, cutting off the exchange before it turned into an argument. “Can we use the Council library without telling them what we’re looking for?”

Giles shook his head. “I doubt very much they would give me free access. It’s more a question of whether they are willing to research Glory and the Key for us.”

Xander was fairly sure that Buffy’s suppressed wince hadn’t slipped by Ethan. They were really going to have to do something soon or Ethan was going to figure out what they were hiding from him. 

The phone rang just as Buffy began objected to telling the Council anything and Xander went to answer it. “Magic Box.” He refused to use the tongue-twisting slogan Giles had come up with.

“Xander?” 

“Mr. Olsen, how are you?”

“Are you and Mr. Giles available to meet me at the hospital right away?”

“Of course,” Xander told him. Mr. Olsen wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” he asked anxiously.

“No, no, it’s not that.” Despite the reassurance, Mr. Olsen’s voice was strained. “Do you remember when we talked about the alarming increase in the number of mental patients at the hospital?” He waited just long enough for Xander’s acknowledgement, then continued: “They’re dead. Something’s killed them.”

“My god! All of them?” Xander was peripherally aware that the others had fallen silent at his shocked exclamation. “How?”

“That’s what I need your help to determine. It’s not a normal death, not even for murder.” Mr. Olsen sounded shaken. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“We’ll be there in 15 minutes,” Xander promised, his stomach twisting at the thought of something killing helpless people. He wasn’t sure how they could help, but Mr. Olsen obviously thought they could and that was good enough for him.

“Problem,” he announced, hanging up the phone. “We’re needed at the hospital.”

~~~~~~~~

In the end, Buffy and Ethan came with them. Buffy was worried that whatever had killed the patients might still be around and Ethan had simply reached for his coat and slid his arms into the sleeves, only looking up when Buffy asked him where he thought he was going.

“Who else?” Ethan asked, giving them a raised-eyebrowed look. “If a half-breed Lobarrrhyn can’t tell how a human was killed, that probably means the deaths are magical, not demonic in origin. I am far more likely to recognize a spell than you, Ripper. So, unless you’re planning on having Ms. Maclay examine the bodies of a dozen murder victims, I rather think you’ll need my expertise.”

The thought of making the gentle wiccan deal with the aftermath of a mass murder obviously gave Giles pause. “Thank you, Ethan,” he said. “You’re quite right.”

Buffy scowled but didn’t object further. She hadn’t reconciled herself to Ethan’s involvement with Giles and generally made no attempt to conceal her dislike of the chaos mage. Hearing the two snipe at each other, Xander was reminded of Buffy and Spike’s interactions back in high school. He’d grown accustomed to Ethan’s presence in their lives and got along fairly well with the older man. Of course, he remained grateful to Ethan for deactivating Spike’s chip and it probably didn’t hurt that Ethan knew he had blackmail material handy since Ethan still hadn’t told Giles about the tracking spell he’d put on Giles. 

Shrugging into his own coat, Xander suppressed a smile. He couldn’t decide if Giles would go ballistic, if and when he found out about the tracking spell, or think it was cute - like he thought some of Spike’s over-the-top protectiveness was cute. Fortunately, Ethan obviously couldn’t decide which way Giles would take it either, which meant that he mostly behaved himself. As much as he was able to anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mr. Olsen met them in the hospital lobby and led them downstairs to the mental ward.

“It’s a shame, really, that they keep the patients down here,” he said, leading them through a set of double doors, obviously usually kept locked, and into a drab institutional hallway. “I do think the patients would do better with a bit more cheerful atmosphere, not to mention windows, but the hospital seems to think this is more secure.”

“Fat lot of good that obviously did,” Ethan commented.

Secure was the word for it, Xander thought with a shiver, looking around at the off-white cement brick walls. They were underground and the hallway was without even the cheerful posters that adorned the upstairs halls. Their footsteps sounded loudly in the empty space and Xander found he was unconsciously softening his steps, trying to keep the noise down.

“How did someone get in?” Giles asked. 

“The police have no idea. I believe they are examining the ventilator shafts now,” Mr. Olsen told them. “Of course, we aren’t absolutely sure this was murder, so I’m not sure how hard they are looking.”

“What does that mean?” Xander asked, Buffy’s question overlapping his.

“I thought you said they were murdered?”

“I believe they were murdered,” Mr. Olsen told her. “However I’m afraid the police seem a bit more inclined towards believing it is a medical issue.” He gestured towards doors on either side of the hall. “The bodies are in there.”

As they approached, one of the doors opened and a dark-haired man in hospital scrubs stuck his head out. He frowned at the size of the group. “I thought you said only two people, Mr. O?”

“Sorry, Ben,” Mr. Olsen answered. “They brought colleagues along, who also might be of assistance.” He gestured towards Giles. “Professor Giles is a chemical biologist, Ben. As I said, I’d very much like him to examine the bodies, and the… substance.”

“Not like we don’t have enough of it to spare,” the young man said, his eyes lingering on Buffy. Xander wondered if he was admiring her admittedly skimpy silk top, or just wondering what kind of “assistance” she provided “Professor Giles”. Of course, he didn’t look like the colleague of a biologist either, but the intern guy hopefully assumed he was there for grunt labor, like shifting bodies and collecting samples.

Not for the first time, Xander acknowledged that, as a group, they sucked at undercover type work.

“Ben is an intern here,” Mr. Olsen informed them. “He is often assigned to the mental ward and, when my wife called me about the deaths, was kind enough to allow me to bring you in.” 

Behind Mr. Olsen’s head, Ben grimaced and Xander studied him, wondering if the distaste was for the deaths or for the mental patients themselves. The intern saw him watching and gave him a friendly smile, which did nothing to hide the shadows behind his eyes. 

“We all just want to find out what happened,” Ben said. “But you’ll have to be quick. They’re expecting the bodies in the morgue and I can’t delay moving them for long.”

“I don’t expect my examination will take long,” Giles said ponderously and Xander hid a smile. He was always amused at the way Giles could wrap his British tweed persona around him like a cloak of respectability. A quick glance showed Ethan was doing the same thing and Xander almost gave the game away by staring openly. Ethan suddenly looked prim and proper, every inch a harmless academician, despite his black and silver shirt. Quite a feat for a man who’s whole body usually oozed insolence for the entire world.

It seemed to satisfy Ben, though, and he pushed open the door and allowed them into the room. Xander filed in with the others and saw lines of beds with still patients in them.

There were 11 dead bodies in the room and Xander nearly vomited when he saw that the bodies were in restraints. Strapped to their beds, they’d been utterly helpless to defend themselves. 

“There’s 8 more in the room across the hall,” Ben told them quietly. “We had to open a second ward to handle the overflow.”

Ben stayed back by the door as they moved as a group towards the closest body. It was a middle-aged man, heavy-set, eyes and mouth open in what looked like surprise.

“No one heard anything?” Giles asked quietly.

Mr. Olsen winced. “The on-duty nurse at the monitoring station heard some screams,” he said. “But she didn’t think they were anything unusual, just thought the patients were restless.”

The curl of nausea deepened inside him deepened. Bad enough to be attacked while helpless, but to have no one respond to your screams… 

“There’s something…” Surprisingly, Ethan produced a slender flashlight from his pocket and shone it down into the man’s open mouth.

“Yes, that is what I wanted you to see,” Mr. Olsen said. “It’s the same for all of them. It looks like they suffocated, their mouths and noses filled with this.” He fished inside the patient’s mouth with something that looked like a popsicle stick and pulled out a wad of clear slimy… stuff, that stretched and clung and resisted being pulled free. As he did, a vile stench came with it, and they stepped back, choking and making disgusted sounds.

“What is that?” Buffy exclaimed, holding her nose.

“Man, that really smells,” Xander remembered belatedly that he was supposed to be some kind of scientist. “Fascinating.”

Hey, it worked for Spock.

“Can we get a sample, without touching it?” Ethan asked. Unlike the rest of them, he looked more intrigued than revolted. 

“Yes, I brought a jar.” Mr. Olsen fumbled a jar out of his pocket and Xander took it from him, unscrewing the lid and holding it so Mr. Olsen could lower the blob of goo into the container. As soon as it was inside, Xander screwed the lid back on, relieved that the foul smell instantly lessened.

“Ideally, we should take a second sample,” Ethan said, crossing to the next patient and shining his flashlight into her mouth. “The question is, did they suffocate, or is the substance toxic?”

He straightened up and looked around at the circle of unenthusiastic faces. “Or perhaps a single sample will suffice,” he conceded. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ethan busied himself setting up a makeshift chemistry lab as soon as they returned to the magic shop. Xander watched in bemusement as the man practically hummed in contentment as he unceremoniously appropriated the hot plate from the shop’s office and began testing samples of the slimy stuff: heating some, chilling others and generally acting like someone who knew what he was doing.

Giles contacted Sgt. Morgan. Given the police involvement, they had decided it was time to “activate” the former members of the Initiative, now stationed at the army base as regular soldiers. The police had found nothing in the ventilations system, but a new mental patient was being admitted for observation even as they left the hospital - a teary-eyed woman who was babbling nonsense and tearing at her hair - and Giles thought it best to take precautions. It could be a coincidence that the victims were all mental patients - given that they were all attacked in the most remote and least accessible section of the hospital - but Giles didn’t think so. 

He also didn’t think that the substance Ethan was testing was simply a previously unknown toxin, agreeing with Mr. Olsen that anything that killed multiple people, quickly and simultaneously, was highly unlikely to be a naturally occurring phenomenon. The patients had all been fine physically when they turned the lights out the previous evening. In the morning, they were all dead. Mrs. Olsen had walked into the middle of the police investigation when she’d arrived for her volunteer shift this morning. She’d called her husband immediately as soon as she heard how the patients had died.

Sergeant Morgan promised to have the three former Initiative soldiers guard the new mental patient until further notice, assuring Giles that there wouldn’t be many questions asked. Apparently civilians rarely questioned soldiers who simply stated flatly that they were under orders to do whatever it was they were doing. He also promised to send a couple of soldiers who were from the demon community to patrol the grounds and building of the hospital.

As Giles hung up the phone, he sighed, looking infinitely weary. “Well, I suppose there is nothing for the rest of us to do except hit the books,” he said bracingly.

Xander reached for his cell to call Spike and let him know he was safely back from the hospital and that he would be at the Magic Box for the evening. And maybe the foreseeable future, he thought glumly, hitting the speed dial.


	23. Chapter 23

Spike and he had gotten pretty good at leaving for the Magic Box by different routes and arriving at the same time. On afternoons like this, when Xander was going to the shop straight from the job site, Spike would hit the tunnels, usually climbing the steps up from the basement just about as Xander walked through the front door.

Spike had beaten him there easily this time, Xander saw as he pushed open the door, setting the little bell above it ringing. Not surprising, considering he hadn’t been able to resist buying a newspaper on the way and had walked the last four blocks avidly reading the main article. That had slowed him down and nearly gotten him killed as he absentmindedly crossed a street against the light. 

“Hey, did anyone else see this article about a meteor strike last night?” he asked the room at large, holding up the newspaper in illustration.

The shop was quiet, with no customers in shopping at the moment. Buffy was leaning against the counter, talking to Giles, and Spike and Tara sat at the table with Dawn. Judging from the smell, Ethan was still playing mad scientist in the training room, but Dawn looked up from her homework at his comment. “It’s all over my school,” she said excitedly. “I heard there was something inside it.”

“Inside the meteor?” Xander asked. “Dawn, you know I’m totally on board with the idea of alien invasion, but do you really think they’d travel in something that small? It’s probably the size of a baseball, maybe a basketball tops.”

“There was so something inside,” Dawn insisted, ignoring the indulgent smiles from everyone else. “Janice’s sister knows a guy who’s friend saw it.”

“And what exactly did Janice’s sister’s friend see?”

“Janice’s sister’s friend’s friend, Rupert, keep it straight,” Spike corrected, somehow managing to sound serious.

“Well, they were making out in the park, and they saw the meteor hit, so they went to investigate. They said it was hollow. And,” she finished triumphantly. “They found a dead body nearby, so something obviously came out of the meteor and killed the guy.”

“H-how did he die?” Tara asked, looking concerned.

“Janice didn’t say. I think they ran away, the big chickens.” Spike smirked at the condemnation in Dawn’s voice for the hapless couple.

“Did the paper say anything about a dead body near the meteor?” Buffy asked, frowning a little.

Xander gave her a look. “This is the Sunnydale Press,” he pointed out. “They gave less than three inches to the hospital deaths, which, I might add, they put down to…” he turned to the article and read out loud: “‘an unknown virus or toxin which appears to have been the cause of not only the mysterious deaths but also of the victims’ unusual symptoms which mimicked psychosis.’” He shut the paper and dropped it on the table. “You’ll all be delighted to know that the hospital reports there is no cause for alarm and they are looking into the problem and expect to have answers shortly.”

“And once again, the stunning incompetence of the medical profession in this charming village is on display,” Ethan said. He entered the main room, wiping his hands on a rag and bringing with him the faint whiff of chemicals. “The patients suffocated. The substance is toxic but only at a very low level. You could feed them that stuff for a week before it would show any effects.”

“Gross,” Dawn said, making a face.

Ethan looked down his nose at her. “In any case, it certainly wasn’t the cause of their insanity. For a virus or an unknown toxin to even be considered as the cause of their symptoms, they would have all had to have been infected at different times, which makes the probability of simultaneous deaths a statistical impossibility.”

“Wankers.” 

Xander wasn’t sure if Spike meant the doctors or the newspaper reporters but, in either case, he had to agree, although he was too busy boggling at Ethan’s crisp summary to comment himself. 

“I quite agree,” Giles said. “Extremely irresponsible of them to put out that reassurance, even when they don’t have the true facts.”

“Umm, do we?”

“I’m sorry, Xander, I forgot you’d only just arrived.” Giles removed his glasses and began polishing them in the way that meant he was preparing for a lengthy explanation. Buffy got there first.

“The soldiers killed the thing responsible last night.” She gave a mock shiver. “From the sketch they made, I’m glad they took care of it. Three foot long worms with arms and way more teeth than normal are not my thing.”

“Yeah?” Spike asked with mild curiosity. He never got as worked up about human deaths as the rest of them. 

“Yes,” Giles confirmed. “It attacked the mental patient we saw being admitted, not long after we left. Apparently it was hiding in the ductwork somewhere. Fortunately, the soldiers had already arrived and they were able to kill it before it harmed her.” He glanced at Xander. “Your friend, Mr. Okolo, identified the creature from the drawing the soldiers made. According to Mr. Okolo, it’s known as a Queller demon. Apparently, they are extremely rare. The name comes from the primitive belief that the demon could be summonsed to ‘quell’ madness.”

“This one certainly ‘quelled’ the local mental population,” Buffy commented bitterly.

“See, I was right,” Dawn said. “The demon got summoned to kill the crazy people.” She sighed in exasperation at the blank looks on everyone’s faces. “Hello - it came here in the meteor.”

“While that is a possibility,” Giles said tactfully. “I suspect it’s far more likely that the demon is drawn to areas where the mentally ill population reaches a certain level. It’s likely the patients put out some chemical or pheromonal signal that we are not aware of that the demon picks up on.”

“Don’t you have homework?” Buffy asked Dawn pointedly.

“Fine. But I’m right, you’ll see.” Dawn turned back to her schoolbooks with a huff and Spike leaned over to whisper something to her that made her giggle.

“We still don’t know what’s causing so many people to go crazy,” Tara said quietly. “If new patients keep showing up, we m-may end up dealing with another one of the demons.”

“That’s a very good point, Tara. I’ll see if Sgt. Morgan can arrange to have a soldier guard the mental ward at the hospital until we know if another demon is likely to appear.”  
Giles sighed and slipped his glasses back on. “I’m very troubled by the sudden appearance of these mental patients. I haven’t been able to find any reference to a demon that causes insanity, and that is yet another reason to ask the Council’s help.”

Buffy scowled. “I still hate the idea of talking to them, but we do seem to be piling up a lot of mysteries lately. Maybe we do need the extra help,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Gotta admit, Sunnydale is big into denial, but until the last month or so, people haven’t been coping with the weirdness by going crazy,” Xander said, more thinking out loud than making an actual conclusion.

“They’re creepy,” Dawn said flatly.

“Dawnie, that’s not very nice,” Tara told her gently. “They can’t help how they’re behaving.”

Dawn just made a face. “I bumped into one of them last week and he kept saying all this crazy stuff to me.” She shivered at the memory and Spike put an arm around her.

“Don’t you worry, li’l Bit. He’s prolly one of the loonies got killed yesterday.”

“SPIKE!”

“What? Man’s got no business bothering helpless young girls,” Spike shot back indignantly.

“I think the operative word is ‘crazy’,” Buffy reminded him, rolling her eyes.

Spike just shrugged. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Slayer, we need to talk.” Spike closed the door firmly behind him and pitched his voice deliberately low, not wanting the rest of the group to hear him. The others were still prattling on about when and how to approach the Watchers Council and he’d slipped away to follow Buffy into the training room.

“What about?”

“About you doing what you promised.”

From the slightly guilty look on her face, Buffy knew exactly what he was talking about. 

“She’s going to find out for herself one of these days. She’s going to overhear something, walk into a room at the wrong time, something.” Spike leaned against the wall and pinned her with a hard look. “You can’t let her find out that way. Either one of them.” 

“I know. It’s just… Things keep happening.” 

“Do you know what that lunatic said to her? Something about nobody being in there.”

Buffy looked blank. “He was crazy, Spike. I wouldn’t expect him to make any sense.”

“Made more sense than a lot of humans. There’s a reason people like that used to be considered touched by the gods. Sometimes they can see things normal people can’t. Not impossible that some of the crazies the Hellmouth is turning up so regular these days might be able to tell she’s not quite what she seems.”

“You’re just guessing,” she said uncertainly.

He raised one eyebrow at her. “Bit more than a guess. Lived with a mad seer for nearly a century, didn’t I?”

Buffy sighed, her whole body sagging slightly. “You’re right. I’ve been finding excuses to put it off.”

“Know that,” he told her. “But if you don’t tell them, I will. Not having Niblet find out from some random loony on the street.”

He spun on his heel and strode out of the room. After a moment, the sound of Buffy pounding the punching bag started up and Spike nodded in satisfaction, moving to collect Xander and head out. She wouldn’t risk Spike breaking the news. She’d tell her mum, and then Dawn.

And not before bloody time, he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, what do you think? Will she tell Joyce?”

“Yeah.” Spike was supremely confident. “Knows if she don’t, I’ll do it for her and she won’t let that happen.”

Xander gave him a sideways look. “I hope so. It’s probably best coming from her.”

“Maybe. Only if she gets around to doin’ it.”

“True. Still, it’s hard to blame her,” Xander said fairly. “It’s not exactly easy to find a gentle way to bring the subject up.”

“Joyce is tough. She’ll handle it.”

“I know. But it’s a pretty hard sell.” 

He could tell from his boy’s voice that Xander was remembering how hard it had been for him to tell Buffy. Slayer hadn’t taken the news well at all. Still, Joyce had a lot more sense than her daughter. She’d understand that Dawn was still Dawn. “Don’t fret, luv. It’ll go alright. Then Joyce will tell Dawn, and that’s how it should be.”

“Yeah, I hadn’t thought that one of the crazies might give the game away.”

Spike snorted. “That’s ’cause you’ve never spent much time around them. Dru was mad as a hatter but she saw things real clear sometimes.” He couldn’t quite hide his smile as he thought of his Dark Princess. Took patience, but when you sifted through her rambling words about stars and flowers and dolls, there was usually a core of insight to be found. He slung an arm around Xander. “Ever tell you how she told me I was going to find you waiting for me here?”

Xander gave him a patient look. “Spike, she died before we ever met.”

“’s what I mean. She knew. Told me I would find my destiny on the Hellmouth.” Spike smirked at Xander’s pleased smile and was unable to resist. “Called you a wounded kitten.”

Xander rolled his eyes. “I’m touched, Spike. Real manly image there.”

“Were younger then, pet. An’ I hadn’t been training you up yet, teachin’ you to be a tiger.”

Xander ducked out from under his encircling arm, moving so quickly that, if Spike hadn’t been expecting some kind of retaliation, he would have been caught off guard as Xander spun around, bringing his left arm up and around in a swift blow aimed at his back. Spike was already turning towards Xander and own arm shot out, blocking the elbow strike and knocking it to one side. Xander didn’t hesitate for an instant, absorbing the force of Spike’s block and throwing a punch at his midsection. 

Spike seized Xander’s wrist and halted the blow before his knuckles got close enough to do more than graze his abdomen, then used Xander’s momentum against him, yanking hard on his arm, forcing Xander’s body to turn until his back was to Spike’s chest. Xander slammed his head back and Spike had to jerk his own head backwards to avoid having his nose broken. Xander used that one second of distraction to slam his foot into Spike’s calf, causing his leg to buckle momentarily. 

Snarling, Spike tightened his grip as Xander tried to break free while Spike was off-balance. He swept his boy’s legs out from under him and shoved him to the ground in the same moment, pouncing on top of him and pinning him down. 

Xander was grinning up at him, his breath coming just a little heavier than normal, and Spike tightened his legs, trapping Xander’s hips between his strong thighs and grinding down against him. Xander took a deep shuddering breath and Spike smirked down at him, feeling Xander’s cock begin to harden under the layers of denim separating them. “Gonna purr for me, kitten?” he asked, his own voice deepening to a throaty purr.

“Oh, yeah.”

Reaching up with both hands, Xander tugged him down and into a passionate kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A loud wolf-whistle sounded and Xander looked up from the piece of wood he was sanding. Joyce was picking her way across the job site, following the directions of one of his co-workers. There was a slight flush of color in her cheeks, but otherwise she ignored Darren, concentrating on keeping her footing on the uneven ground. Xander pulled his goggles off and glared at Darren and his cronies, sweeping his fingers across his throat in a cut-it-out gesture. Grinning good naturedly, Darren just shrugged unrepentantly and turned back to his work.

Just then, Joyce glanced up and spotted Xander, and one look was enough to tell Xander why she was there - Buffy had obviously done what she’d promised and told Joyce about Dawn. 

“Hi, Joyce. Give me a second and I’ll be right with you,” he said, glancing at his watch.

The shift was almost over. Xander unplugged the sander and stowed it away, then gave a brief word of explanation to the crew chief, before following Joyce back to her car. “I’m sorry to catch you at work, Xander,” she said as she unlocked the doors. “I really need to talk to you.”

“Not a problem,” he told her, then asked with careful casualness. “Is this about Dawn?”

Joyce shot him a sideways look as she turned the key. “Yes, but let’s wait until I’m not driving.”

They were both silent as Joyce drove them away from the job site, pulling over after a minute into the parking lot behind the movie theater. She stopped in the far end of the lot, well away from any other cars, and shut off the engine, turning sideways in her seat to face him. “Xander, are you sure?” Her eyes held his intently. “There’s no possibility that you misunderstood?” Xander almost smiled, not surprised that she’d gone straight to the heart of the matter.

He shook his head slowly, wishing he could lie, wishing there was some way he could tell her that the dying monk had been babbling nonsense and he didn’t believe a word of it. “I wish I could tell you I wasn’t sure,” he said. “But I haven’t been able to come up with a single reason why the monk would have lied.”

“Will you tell me about it?” She made a vague apologetic gesture. “Buffy told me the general facts but she wasn’t there. Please don’t think I doubt you, Xander. It’s just that   
I can’t even begin to grasp this. She’s my little girl, I…” Her voice trailed off and her eyes filled with tears.

Xander reached out and took her smaller hand in his own big, calloused one. “She’s still Dawn. She’s just…not quite as old as we thought.”

Joyce squeezed his hand, closing her eyes for a long moment. Then she took a deep ragged breath and looked at him again. “Thank you, Xander.” 

He took a steadying breath of his own and, as he had done for Buffy, he described his encounter with the monk, reliving again the pain and horror of that night, the monk’s suffering, his desperation to impart the vital information before he died, Xander’s own rejection of the idea, and finally, his reluctant acceptance. Through it all, Joyce sat silently, watching him with steady eyes, absorbing every nuance of expression in his face and voice.

When he finished, there was a long silence. Finally, Joyce sighed. “As much as I don’t want to believe it, I suppose it must be true.” She stared out the window across the parking lot. Cars were gradually arriving, and small groups of people were converging on the box office, forming a short line. The sound of their cheerful voices drifted across the expanse of asphalt, an almost obscene contrast to the heavy atmosphere inside the car. Xander found himself watching the oblivious movie-goers, envying them their carefree evening.

“Buffy tells me you and Spike think Dawn should be told.” Joyce’s voice pulled his attention back to the conversation and he hesitated, not sure if it had been a question. 

“Yes,” he said finally, when she didn’t say anything else. “I think she’s going to find out anyway, sooner or later.” He lifted one hand in a helpless gesture. “If nothing else, Murphy’s law will make sure it happens. It’s better if it comes from you and Buffy.” 

Joyce frowned, biting her lip indecisively, in a way that was unlike her usual brisk confidence. “I don’t know…” she began. “She’s still just a baby. Maybe when she’s a little older…”

“We’re lucky she hasn’t found out already,” he told her bluntly. “Did Buffy tell you about the crazy guy Dawn ran into?” Joyce nodded and Xander continued: “Spike thinks that some crazy people might be able to tell she’s…different. And right now, Sunnydale is crawling with crazy people. Even without them, there’s Glory hunting for her, and possibly others as well. Dawn will be safer is she knows she has to be careful.”

He gave Joyce a tiny smile. “You know Spike has always protected her, right? I think Dawn knows it too, that she’s just a little safer on the Hellmouth than most kids her age. And that may have been true six months ago…” he stopped, realizing what he was saying, then shook his head impatiently. “Dawn needs to know that there are things out there looking for her. Things that won’t worry about angering Spike. I know it’s a lot for her to handle, but better freaked out than dead. She has to be careful until we figure out how to handle Glory.”

“But Buffy tells me Rupert is going to England soon. He might find the answers you’re looking for. If he does, then Dawn doesn’t need to know. Surely we can wait, at least until he comes back.”

“He’s leaving Friday night and expects to be back on Monday,” Xander told her. “But he’s just going to ask the Council and the Coven if they can help. He’s just setting things in motion. He’s not going to tell them anything about Dawn, or that the Key is human now, but he is going to ask them to research both Glory and the Key. What if they find something that leads to Dawn?”

“That’s what Buffy is afraid of.”

“We all are,” he said. 

It was true. They’d talked about it - what they would do if the Council found out about Dawn somehow. Running away was the best answer they’d been able to come up with so far.

Well, the best answer after Buffy, Giles and himself had all vetoed Spike’s suggestion that they kill every member of the Council if they figured out that Dawn was the Key. Afterwards, Xander had pointed out to his sulking lover that they had no way of ensuring that the Council wouldn’t pass the information on to any of their field agents, and tracking them all down was simply not feasible.

“I know it’s your decision,” he said. “Yours and Buffy’s, but something could happen at any moment: the Council, Glory; hell, one of the crazy people could spill the beans to Dawn. I’m worried about what will happen if she finds out by accident.” He sighed. “And I’m worried that, if you and Buffy need to act quickly to keep Dawn safe, Dawn will slow you down with questions. Unless she knows what’s going on already.”

Joyce nodded thoughtfully, then shifted in her seat to face front and started up the car. “Thank you, Xander.” She gave him a fleeting smile. “For letting me kidnap you, and for… everything else. I know you and Spike want what’s best for Dawn. I’ll think about what you said.” She put the car in gear but kept her foot on the brake, turning to give him a stern look. “Please tell Spike that this is a family decision. I appreciate his concern, but if he takes action on his own without talking to me first, I will be very angry.”

“I’ll tell him,” he promised.


	24. Chapter 24

That obviously went well.

Spike could have been a half mile away and still heard the angry screaming. L’il Bit had a voice that could shatter glass when she was upset. 

Rupert had returned from England, reporting that the Council didn’t know anything about Glory, or anything like her, but had agreed to look into it. He had rather grimly reported that the Council had been very interested in the Key and were full of theories about where it could have been hidden. He’d hurriedly reassured the white-faced Buffy that most of the Council’s theories were nonsensical but the idea of that bunch of cold-blooded wankers stumbling over the information that Dawn was the Key had been enough to push the Slayer into action. He’d overheard Buffy telling her Watcher that she would break the news to Dawn this weekend. Friday night, she’d decided, to give Dawn as much time as possible to adjust before she had to go back to school on Monday.

Which was why he’d been outside the house on Revello Drive since a few minutes after sunset, leaning against a tree and smoking, waiting to see if the Slayer kept her promise.

Rupert had also contacted the Coven for help while he was in England. They hadn’t heard of Glory either, but Spike was not happy with the fact that the secret had been spread further - especially to a bunch of witches. Too many people were learning about the Key’s existence and Spike didn’t trust most magic workers. Power hungry, the lot of them. And the Key was supposed to be pure energy, just waiting for someone to figure out how to tap into it.

From the screaming and slamming doors, loud enough to be audible to humans from where he stood, Dawn wasn’t taking the news well.

He waited, curious to see how they handled the temper tantrum, and growled in exasperation when he saw Dawn climbing out the window. Slayer should have anticipated that, given how many times she’d used the same exit. 

He flicked away his cigarette and watched the girl climb down the white painted trellis, hearing the wood creak even under her slight weight. He smirked, it was apparent this wasn’t the first time she’d traveled this route, making it to the ground with the ease of someone who’d done it before.

Or watched someone else do it, he thought in annoyance. Slayer should have been more careful that her kid sister wasn’t watching when she was making her own clandestine escapes, even if she hadn’t actually had a sister back then. Unlike Xander, he wasn’t troubled by the paradoxes of Dawn’s existence. She was here now and that was enough for him. He had no problem with blaming her older sister for things she hadn’t actually done.

He stepped out of the shadows just as Dawn reached the ground. The girl backed away from the house, keeping a cautious eye out for watching relatives, then relaxed and turned around, coming to a sudden halt with a squeak of surprise when she almost ran into him.

“Spike!” she gasped. “Jeez! Lurk much? What are you doing here?”

Spike shrugged. “Passing by,” he said casually. “Heard the shouting. From the sound of it, thought you all were being attacked by a seshantii demon.” He gave Dawn a feral grin. “Nearly kicked in your door, thinking I’d join the party.” He glanced up at the window and frowned at the sight of flames beginning to shed their flickering light on the walls of the bedroom. “Burning the place down, Niblet?”

“It’s just in the trash can,” Dawn told him, crossing her arms defensively. “You sure fuss a lot for a vampire. Thought you were supposed to be evil.” Despite the bravado, Dawn cast an uneasy glance back up at the bedroom.

“Been known to enjoy a spot of arson now and then myself,” Spike told her, lighting another cigarette to give himself a moment to think. “Just wasn’t sure you were up to torching your own house.”

Dawn shifted uncomfortably, and opened her mouth to say something. Just then, they heard the sound of the Slayer yelling for Joyce. 

“Guess they got it under control,” he told Dawn, sending a long puff of smoke skyward. “Where you headin?”

“Away.”

He cocked his scarred eyebrow at her. “Pretty vague destination. All number of beasties between here and away,” he said, letting a hint of predator into his voice, then frowned at her, more serious now. “And I don’t see a single bloody weapon on you, Bit. Taught you better than that, didn’t I?”

“I can take care of myself,” she told him stiffly. 

“Not without weapons, you can’t,” he said bluntly. “Even with them, shouldn’t be wandering around at night when you’re upset.”

“Who says I’m upset?”

He just raised an eyebrow. “Vampire, luv. Can smell it on you. What’s got your knickers in a twist?” he asked casually, as if he didn’t know.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, looking away. The faint scent of salty tears drifted in the night air.

“Fine by me. But we should be moving on if we don’t want big sis catching up with you.”

Dawn didn’t answer, her face still averted, but she set off across the lawn, heading away from the house. Spike fell into step beside her, content to wait. Dawn couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. She’d start talking, soon as she was ready.

~~~~~~~~~~

They walked in silence for long minutes, Spike unobtrusively steering the girl to the quieter areas of town, those rarely frequented by harmful demons. Walking along the sidewalks, past well-groomed lawns and in and out of the pools of light cast by the streetlamps, Spike kept a wary ear out for trouble, but they seemed to be the only ones out in the cool darkness.

“They said I’m not real. I’m not a person. I’m just a thing.”

Dawn’s words broke the long silence, bewildered hurt underlying the surface anger in her tone.

“That right?” he asked calmly, glancing at her. “What are you then?”

“Something unnatural.”

She turned to look at him for the first time since they began walking. She’d been crying silently and the tears had left drying tracks down her cheeks. Her eyes were red-rimmed and damp, but the tears were no longer flowing. 

“Covers a lot of ground, luv,” he told her. “Most folks think I’m unnatural. Know you’re not a vampire, what did they say you were?”

He was curious what Joyce and Buffy had told Dawn but mostly, he thought she needed to say the words herself.

“Some kind of mystical energy thing,” she said after a moment.

“Seem pretty human to me.”

There was another long silence, and Spike just waited, walking beside the girl, listening to the ordinary sounds of the night: a dog barking several blocks over, tv’s in the houses they passed, a quarrelling couple, their angry voices carrying easily to his ears.

“Why did they have to tell me?” she broke out passionately. “If you can’t tell I’m not human, then no-one else can either. I was happy not knowing.” 

“Couldn’t hide it from you forever, Bit. Sooner or later, you would have found out anyway. Would you rather some stranger had told you? Your mum and sister told you because they love you.”

“They’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

“Dawn,” the rare use of her name brought her eyes around to meet his. “They’re trying to keep you safe. Glory’s after the Key. So’re some others. You needed to know.”

She froze, then her puzzled look hardened into a glare. “You already knew, didn’t you?” she accused. Her small fist flashed out and he caught her by the wrist before the blow landed, using just enough force to hold on to her, not enough to hurt her.

“Yeah, known for awhile now. Xander knows too,” he admitted.

Dawn yanked her arm back, trying to get free. “Let go of me,” she snarled in a low, angry voice. When she couldn’t jerk free of his grip, she yelled at him, throwing wild punches with her free hand and kicking at him. He let the blows fall, not trying to check them or avoid them, letting her get it out of her system, just holding on to her so she couldn’t run away. 

After a moment, she stopped struggling and glared at him, breathing hard. “Who else knows?” she demanded. 

“Just Rupert.”

“Let go of me,” she repeated and this time he did.

She stood there, rubbing absently at her wrist. “Do I scare you?” she challenged. “I’m supposed to be really powerful.”

He let out a short bark of surprised laughter. “I’m a demon, Bit. Don’t really care if you’re human or not, or how powerful you are.” 

“Figures you’d say that.” She looked down, scuffing one shoe against the sidewalk. “But everyone else is going to look at me like I’m some sort of freak.”

“Not going to lie, Dawn, some people would look at you differently, if they knew. Most everyone: your friends, teachers, and whatnot, they’re not going to know, so don’t worry about them. I’m not human, and I think most humans are boring, so I don’t give a piss if you aren’t human. Xander’s got more demon friends than human, so why would he care if you’re a little more than human? Giles already knows. He treatin’ you any differently?”

Dawn shook her head.

“Only leaves Glinda. Don’t know her all that well, but she’s a classy lady, for all she’s got terrible taste in girlfriends. Can’t see her actin’ any different towards you.”

“But what about mom and Buffy?” It was a tiny, frightened whisper. “I’m not really part of the family. I’m just something they sent to the Slayer, so she could protect me.”

“Bollocks. You’re a Summers, no question. And Summers women are tough. Look what your mum’s just been through. Didn’t see her whining about how tough life was, now did you?” 

Dawn shook her head, her hair swinging with the movement of her bent head. “This is different. I’m just a thing. The Key. What am I? Am I real? Am I anything?” Her voice rose louder and louder as she spoke and Spike put both hands on her shoulders, staring down into her eyes until she quieted.

“You’re Joyce’s daughter and Buffy’s sister,” he said forcefully. “Threatened to disembowel me if I told you myself, your mum did,” he told her, exaggerating slightly. “Said this was a family matter and I shouldn’t interfere.”

Dawn looked back at him wide-eyed. 

“Now, does that sound like your mum thinks of you any different? I thought you should have been told right away,” he said. “But your mum and sis wanted to wait, thought you were too young to handle it. Families are like that,” he said casually. “They don’t always see how strong the youngest one is. They just see their baby.” He vaguely remembered that from his human years. 

Dawn still looked troubled but, after a moment, she moved forward, throwing her arms around his waist and holding him tightly. Spike hugged her back, stroking her hair, smoothing it with long gentle strokes the same ones he’d once used to calm Drusilla when she was becoming lost in her madness. It seemed to work this time too. Dawn’s tense muscles relaxed and she burrowed deeper into his arms, tears wetting the front of his shirt as she wept silently against his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dawn wasn’t ready to go home yet, but agreed to let Spike call Xander once Spike pointed out that her mother and sister were probably tearing the town apart looking for her. He fished his seldom used phone out of his pocket and switched it on, calling Xander’s cell phone. From the number of accumulated messages, he knew he was going to be on the receiving end of another lecture about leaving his phone on so Xander could reach him.

“Spike?” Xander’s anxious tones answered almost before the first ring sounded. “Dawn’s missing.”

“Not to worry, luv. She’s safe with me. Tell the Slayer to call off the search.”

“Is she ok?”

Spike glanced down at her and she gave him a wan smile. “Bit out of sorts but she’ll be fine.”

Xander’s relieved sigh was clearly audible. “Buffy wants you to bring her home, immediately,” he said obviously relaying a message.

“Slayer can piss off. Dawn’ll be home when she’s ready.” Spike shut the phone off. He wasn’t getting into an argument with the Slayer about this, even a second-hand one. Xander would understand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander growled as the line went dead. Damn Spike for leaving him in the middle. He slowly closed the phone and turned to face the expectant eyes. 

“She’s safe. She’s with Spike. She’s not ready to come home yet.”

“Call him back,” Buffy exclaimed. “She’s 14! She’s got no business wandering around the Hellmouth in the middle of the night.”

“Buffy, it’s 7:00 not the middle of the night,” Xander pointed out. “I imagine she just needs some space after the argument,” he said obliquely, aware that Ethan was taking far too much interest in Buffy’s panic over her missing sister. “Spike won’t let anything happen to her.”

“She could’ve burned the house down!”

“And you can talk to her about that when she gets home.” he suggested. “Maybe after everyone’s calmed down a little.”

“Xander’s right,” Giles said. “You should go home, let your mother know Dawn’s been found. I’m sure Spike will bring her home shortly.”

“He better,” Buffy said grimly.


	25. Chapter 25

“So, how did it go when you brought her home?” Xander asked, watching with more than idle interest as Spike rapidly shucked his clothes.

It was a much better show than the one he’d been watching twenty minutes ago. He’d passed the time waiting for Spike to return sitting on the couch, restlessly channel surfing but completely unable to focus on anything he ended up watching. Instead, his ears had been tuned to the outside stairs, listening for Spike. When the welcome sound of Spike’s familiar steps climbing the stairs had finally come, he’d snatched the door open, peppering Spike with anxious questions about Dawn, which Spike had answered reassuringly.

Yes, Dawn was fine. Yes, she’d calmed down and gone home, just like he’d said she would. No, Dawn wasn’t going to do anything crazy. Yes, he was sure that Dawn was going to be ok with the news that she wasn’t quite human. His questions had fallen into silence eventually and Spike had pulled him into a hug, suggesting that they would both feel better after a shag.

He really liked the way Spike’s mind worked.

Heading for the bedroom, Spike had already begun pulling his clothes off but Xander wasn’t quite ready to move on, curious about how Joyce and Buffy had handled Spike’s refusal to bring Dawn home until she was ready.

“Slayer yelled at me, Joyce told her to put a cork in it. Then they both made a big fuss over Dawn,” the vampire reported, tossing his shirt over a chair, his hands already undoing his belt.

Xander’s eyebrows went up skeptically. “Joyce told Buffy to put a cork in it?”

“’s what she meant,” Spike insisted.

“So Dawn’s ok?” he asked again, admittedly for about the twelfth time. Spike stopped with his jeans half undone and looked at him seriously.

“Yeah, luv. Niblet’s strong, she’ll be fine.”

He could tell that Spike believed what he was saying, but he was having a hard time believing that Dawn had dealt with something this big in just a couple hours. “We are talking about the person who set fire to her room, right?” he reminded Spike, climbing onto the bed as his lover sprawled out on the mattress.

“Just letting off a bit of steam, nothing to worry about.”

Xander shook his head. Only Spike would describe arson as nothing to worry about. Not that Dawn had really intended burning the house Dawn, but it had scared him badly that she’d destroyed her journals. She’d been keeping a diary for years - sort of… or at least thought she had… Anyway, the journals existed and it worried him that she’d torn them up and burned them. Of course, maybe the idea of ever re-reading them since they chronicled things that hadn’t actually happened had freaked her out as much as it still sometimes did him, thinking about the intricacies of the memories that had been given to them all, but still, it was like she was rejecting the only life she’d always known.

Shaking off his whirling thoughts, he straddled Spike, still fully dressed, his weight resting on his knees as he bent down to kiss his lover. “We should probably keep an eye on her for awhile,” he said quietly, “just to be sure. It’s a lot, Spike, and humans aren’t as adaptable as demons.”

“We’ll keep an eye on her,” Spike promised, pulling him down for another kiss. “Be alright, luv.”

For long moments, they did nothing more than kiss, mouths moving slowly and sensually against each other, tongues darting and playing, Spike’s hands buried in Xander’s hair, holding the dark waves back from his face as he bent over Spike, his upper body pressed against Spike’s bare chest, his muscular legs warm and tight against Spike’s sides. 

Xander pulled back finally, sitting up so he was perched on top of Spike’s hips, a mischievous smile on his lips as he began to slowly unbutton his shirt, lingering teasingly over each button. Spike smirked up at him, wriggling a little beneath Xander’s weight to rub his erection against the worn softness of Xander’s jeans.

“Bit faster wouldn’t kill you, luv,” he suggested. He laced his fingers behind his head and lifted his scarred eyebrow challengingly.

Xander finished unbuttoning his shirt but made no move to take it off, letting the halves hang open, giving Spike only glimpses of his tanned flesh. “Got a surprise for you,” he purred and bent to kiss Spike again, his hands running up Spike’s arms, caressing the flesh and closing around his wrists.

~~~~~~~

Spike let Xander dominate the kiss, enjoying the feeling of his Claimed’s big calloused hands wrapped around his own wrists, pretending to pin him down so Xander could ravage his mouth unchecked. He rocked his hips upwards, loving the friction against his aching cock. 

He would never make the comparison out loud, but these times when Xander took the lead in their lovemaking reminded him of Drusilla on those nights when they had clawed and bit each other in frenzied passion. Not that Xander ever went as far as Dru sometimes had. It hadn’t been uncommon for his dark princess to leave deep, bleeding wounds, wounds that afterwards, lying sated and content beside him, she would drink from, her tongue bathing and savoring each wound in a way that left him aroused all over again.

Xander never shredded his flesh during sex but he’d long since figured out that Spike found a touch of pain almost unbearably erotic and often marked Spike with his blunt human teeth and nails, giving him the taste of pleasure and pain entwined that his demon found so arousing.

Spike let his head fall back with a groan as Xander abandoned the kiss, his mouth drifting down along Spike’s neck, tracing the blood vessels with his tongue, then closing his teeth in a sharp bite that came just short of breaking the skin. He worried the skin for a moment, pinching it between his teeth as Spike sucked in an unneeded breath and arched in pleasure beneath him.

Xander lifted up and released one of Spike’s wrists, stretching across him towards the edge of the bed. Spike took advantage of the opportunity, mouthing at the flat brown nipples as they brushed by his face. Xander chuckled, fumbling at the bed-side table for a moment, then settled back down over Spike’s hips, his brown eyes laughing down at Spike as he took hold of both wrists again.

He felt the chill of metal against his right wrist and looked over just in time to see Xander snap a handcuff closed around his wrist. He raised an eyebrow as Xander shut the free end of the cuff around a portion of the bed frame. “Kinky, luv. Where’d you get the cuffs?”

“Ethan,” Xander said matter-of-factedly, as he reached over and snapped a second pair around Spike’s left wrist, again closing the free end through the frame of the bed.

“Figures. Randy old queer.”

“Look who’s talking. You’re like a hundred years older than he is.” Xander said absently, running his hands with tantalizing slowness down Spike’s arms towards his chest.

He could easily break free of the handcuffs, but he was curious to see what his boy was up to. He lay still, watching as Xander began running his hands over Spike’s smooth cool flesh, exploring the lean muscled form as if it weren’t as familiar to him as his own. Spike arched his back as Xander bent down, teasingly nipping and lapping at first one nipple, then the other, little jolts of sensation shooting through him as Xander’s teeth closed on the sensitive nubs, biting hard enough to cause Spike’s cock to jerk as the pain sent pleasure shooting through his body. 

Spike was almost purring as Xander worked his way slowly down his body, worshipping every inch of his chest and abdomen as he went. He was hard and ready, his body twisting and writhing as he sought more sensation by the time Xander finally reached his goal, his lips mouthing down Spike’s abdomen towards his eager cock. 

Xander sat up abruptly and Spike cursed, bucking his hips upwards encouragingly. “Too soon to be takin’ a break, luv,” he said. “You were doin’ fine.”

“Just fixing the sheets a bit,” he said with mock solicitude, “wouldn’t want you uncomfortable.” 

To Spike’s disbelief, Xander proceeded to do just that, pulling up the top sheet so that it covered Spike to the waist.

“Going the wrong way there, pet,” he couldn’t help pointing out.

His boy looked at him from under the tumbled fall of his bangs, his dark eyes sparkling with wicked amusement. “Patience, luv,” he said mockingly.

“Fuck, patience,” Spike growled.

Xander laughed at him, then bent his head and began mouthing at his cock through the sheet. Spike could feel the warmth of his breath even through the fabric and his cock was straining against the cotton separating it from Xander’s mouth, struggling to break free, wanting the feel of that warm heat surrounding him. He swore as Xander dragged his tongue along the bulge under the sheet, teasing him unmercifully.

For long moments, Xander did his best to drive him out of his mind, ignoring Spike’s demands to get on with it, for Xander to touch him, mouthing and licking at his crotch until the fabric was damp from both saliva and pre-come and Spike was bucking his hips restlessly, the handcuffs rattling against the headboard as he strained against the restraints.

Xander sat up again and shifted so he was sitting directly over Spike’s hips, staring down at him with a mocking smile.

“Oi! Finish what you started,” Spike complained, arcing up against him.

“I thought this would be a good time to discuss the fact that I couldn’t reach you for -” Xander ground his hips against Spike’s “Two. Bloody. Hours.” He emphasized each word by rocking their hips together so their erections slid against each other. 

“Cell phones are for humans,” he said, glaring up at his Claimed. 

“Apparently so are orgasms,” Xander threatened.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he growled, shifting into his true face and glaring in yellow-eyed outrage at his Claimed.

Which, of course, was exactly the wrong thing to say. Xander leaned closer to him, not coincidentally pressing harder against his aching cock as he did so. “Nothing else seems to be getting the point across. I figure a spot of torture is what’s called for.”

Normally, Spike was all for torture, but not when he was on the receiving end.

He snarled and exerted his full strength against the handcuffs. The metal bands around his wrists held but the links of chain snapped, unequal to the task of confining a Master Vampire. Fast as lightning, he grabbed Xander and flipped the two of them over in a tangle of twisted sheets. He released Xander just long enough to reach down and rip the sheets away from them. Xander’s startled laugh was almost drowned out by the noise the cotton made as he carelessly shredded the fabric in his quest to be free of the confining cloth.

His hands made short work of Xander’s jeans, yanking them off and flinging them to one side, exposing Xander’s eager weeping erection. He fisted his hands in Xander’s long hair, kissing him savagely as their bodies strained together. Teeth clashed, tongues dueled and he gloried in his Claimed’s eager surrender. Unable to wait, he freed one hand and reached between their bodies, coating his fingers with the pre-come flowing from both their cocks. 

He pushed Xander’s legs over his shoulders and reached between, plunging two fingers inside, loving the way Xander gasped as he was hastily stretched. Eyes closed, head thrown back exposing his neck with the veins throbbing tantalizingly just beneath the surface, Xander was lost in sensation. Spike worked to open him, feeling the tight muscles yield to his probing fingers, as he circled and scissored his fingers inside his boy’s hot silken channel. He felt Xander’s slight jerk as his fingers found the prostate gland and he deliberately brushed his knuckles against it, loving the way Xander groaned and shuddered beneath him, his breaths coming in harsh pants.

He pulled his fingers free and positioned himself, forcing himself to move slowly and not just plunge inside as he wanted to. He pushed inside slowly, relentlessly, feeling the muscles give way slowly to let him in. Xander’s hands were urging him on but he held his pace, knowing that Xander was only minimally prepared and not wanting to push the pain of penetration beyond what his boy would find arousing. He could feel the tight muscles fluttering around his cock and the sensation was pure bliss. He was encased in tight velvet heat, clasping him tight and massaging him and it was all he could do to hold back.

He rested for a moment when he was fully seated, giving Xander’s body time to adjust, ignoring his Claimed’s incoherent pleas to get on with it, to just fucking move already. Bending his head, he lapped at Xander’s skin, letting the taste of sweat and pheromones and the unique flavor that was Xander fill his senses. Slowly, infinitesimally, his hips began to move, withdrawing and thrusting in tiny movements that gradually increased in speed and power until he was plunging in hard and fast, pounding deep inside, hitting Xander’s prostate with every thrust as Xander thrashed beneath him, his cries of pleasure filling the room. 

Spike bent down and buried his fangs in Xander’s neck, Xander’s sharp scream sounding in his ear and he stiffened and came, his cock spurting between their bodies, his ass clenching around Spike’s cock pulling Spike’s own orgasm from him in a burst of exquisite pleasure. His mouth filled with his Claimed’s blood, his cock milked by the tight convulsing muscles, Spike barely remembered to lift his head in time to avoid draining his Claimed.

He licked soothingly at his renewed Mark, pulling his softening cock out of Xander’s hole, and rolled the two of them away from the wet spot, wrapping himself around his boy’s heated body. For a long moment, he listened contentedly as Xander’s breathing and heart rate gradually slowed to normal, his ear pressed against his boy’s back, his hands stroking softly over his boy’s tanned skin.

“That’ll teach you,” Xander murmured, his voice slurred with sleep and boneless satiation.

Spike chuckled, the sound little more than a quiet rumble of content in the room. “Yeah, luv. Taught me good.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Raised voices in the front room distracted Xander and he half turned, glancing back towards the door leading into the shop. Spike took full advantage, sweeping Xander’s legs out from under him and dropping him to the mats. 

“Hey, no fair,” Xander complained.

“Keep your mind on the opponent you’re fighting, luv. Worrying about what’s happening somewhere else gets you killed.” 

“Not in the shop during a sparring session,” Xander grumbled but Spike could see his boy had taken the critique seriously. Xander nearly always fought opponents stronger than himself and needed to keep his mind on what he was doing to stay alive. It was a point Spike spent a lot of time reinforcing, given Xander’s tendency to worry more about everyone else’s wellbeing than his own survival. 

He put out a hand and pulled Xander to his feet. “Somethin’s got the Slayer in a tizzy,” he commented, following Xander into the front room. After the initial exchange of excited words, the voices had died down to murmurs but the intense emotions were still there.

Buffy was explaining something to Rupert, keeping her voice low and a wary eye on the customers browsing in the shop. She had Joyce and Dawn with her and that put Spike on alert. While Dawn often dropped by after school for an hour or two, Joyce rarely came to the shop. His eyes swept the room, noting the two overnight bags dropped by the door and Joyce’s anxiety. Dawn had her over by the shelves, pointing out various items to her, but Joyce’s worried gaze remained fastened on her daughter and Rupert even as she tried to be calm for Dawn’s sake. 

“Guys, what’s going on?” Xander asked.

Rupert cleared his throat. “Tara, would you mind watching the register for a few minutes?” he asked. Tara looked up and nodded agreement before turning back to the customer she was helping, who was curiously examining a carved wooden statuette. Buffy beckoned Joyce and Dawn to join them in the back, then shut the door to the shop firmly behind them.

“Glory was at the house this afternoon,” Buffy announced. Spike froze, his eyes going immediately to Dawn. “Dawn wasn’t there. I stopped by after classes and found my mother offering Glory tea,” she explained grimly.

“Well, it’s not like I knew who she was,” Joyce said, with surface calm. “I just assumed she was a friend of yours, Buffy. She seemed a little rude but not dangerous.”

“Niblet?” Spike asked, biting back the curses that rose to his lips as he realized that none of them had had the brains of a hr’ashlek demon or they would have described Glory to Joyce and Dawn so they would recognize her if she showed up at their door. 

“I was at Janet’s.” Dawn sounded almost disappointed that she hadn’t met Glory. “I always miss the good stuff.”

“It wasn’t good,” Buffy said sharply. “She threatened to kill mom and everyone else I know if I don’t turn over the Key.”

“She knows you have it?” Xander asked anxiously.

“She’s guessing,” Buffy told him. “But she seemed pretty convinced that I either have it or know where it is.”

“Makes sense,” Spike said. “The monks wanted to protect the Key. You’re the strongest human in town, so you’re the most likely person to be guarding it. Not like a bunch of monks are going to trust a demon enough to turn the Key over to one.”

“Buffy, what do you want to do?” Giles asked.

“I need to get mom and Dawn out of town. Like tonight.”

“No,” Dawn said heatedly. “I’m not leaving my friends.”

“Dawn, it’s the safest way.”

“Is it?” Joyce asked quietly. “Buffy, if you go with us, Glory is bound to wonder why you’ve suddenly left town and taken us with you. And if you send us away without you, you won’t be there to protect Dawn.”

“Hello. Isn’t anyone listening to me? I said I’m not leaving.”

“Dawn, you’ll do as we say,” Buffy told her.

“You’re not the boss of me!” Dawn snapped, her eyes flashing. 

“Why don’t we all just calm down and think this through,” Giles suggested. 

“Giles,” Buffy said emphatically. “Mom and Dawn can’t stay here. Glory knows where they live. I have to get them somewhere safe. If Dawn had been home…”

“Would Glory recognize her?” Xander interrupted as Buffy trailed off, unable to voice her fear. “I mean,” he glanced apologetically at Dawn, “if she sees Dawn, will Glory know she’s the Key?”

That was the fear behind Buffy’s panic, Spike realized. And the reason she was wanting to bolt. “Doubt it,” he said before she could answer, and shrugged when the Summers’ women all stared at him. “Stands to reason. Monks knew who they were hiding the Key from, after all. Be a bloody stupid way to hide their precious Key if Glory could bump into her at the mall and know instantly that Dawn’s what she’s looking for,” he pointed out.

“We can’t take that risk. Who knows how good the spell is?” Buffy insisted. “Getting them out of town completely is the safest thing.”

“Be a mite conspicuous, bundling everyone up and leaving town together.” Spike said judiciously. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, please. Think your Watcher is going to let you leave without him? And what about the rest of us? Glinda, and even Rayne? Think Glory won’t torture anyone left behind for information?” 

Buffy’s eyes widened, and she looked at Giles and Xander helplessly. Spike pressed the point home. “Would leave a trail a blind human could follow, if you go caravanning across the landscape with everyone you hold near and dear.” He met her stare with a raised eyebrow. “Running isn’t the answer. It gets you on your own, no resources, no safe house, no plan.” 

“We’ll drive halfway across the country and set ourselves up somewhere far, far away from the Hellmouth and Glory,” Buffy said after a moment. “We’ll be safe in the middle of nowhere.”

“Stop thinking like a human, Slayer,” Spike said bluntly, shaking his head in exasperation. He couldn’t help wondering if Buffy was thinking about taking refuge with her toy soldier. “Dawn’s not a witness on the run from the mob, who can just change her name and hide out in the Midwest. Use your head. Glory hasn’t been able to find the Key when she’s living in the same town as Dawn. That says the monks did something more than just create memories of her. Says she’s hidden from detection somehow. The spells they worked are powerful, about the most strongest mojo I’ve ever heard of. Think about it: everyone who encounters Dawn who would know you had a kid sister, or Joyce has a daughter, has memories of her. People who wouldn’t know about her, don’t get the instant memories. Spell that sophisticated took a hell of a lot of power to work.”

“You think they borrowed power from the Hellmouth for the spell,” Giles said in sudden realization.

“Stands to reason, don’t it? How do we know the spell will keep working once you take her outside the Hellmouth’s range?”

“It won’t matter then, no one will know Dawn or any of us away from here,” Buffy said impatiently.

“And what if the mojo that’s keepin’ something as powerful as Glory from realizing Dawn’s the Key when she’s standing in your house breaks down as well?”

Buffy shot a horrified look at Dawn. “Oh, my god.” There was sick realization in her voice.

“Buffy, he’s right. We can’t take that risk. We just have to bluff it out here.” Joyce said quietly.

“Not such a bad place to make a stand,” Spike commented. “Got resources and friends here.”

Dawn had been listening silently, looking frightened but trying hard to hide it. Joyce put an arm around her, giving her a comforting squeeze. “We need a plan, Buffy,” she told her daughter quietly. “Just getting into the car and running away isn’t the answer. If we decide that leaving is the safest thing to do, then we need a plan. Otherwise, we’re just running blindly and we’ll be easy to follow - which makes leaving a wasted effort.”

Buffy took a deep, steadying breath. “Ok. But the two of you can’t stay at home by yourselves. What if Glory comes back? She said the next time she and I met, someone I loved was going to die.” From the slight hesitation, Spike suspected she was editing the threat somewhat for Dawn’s sake. “If you’re not leaving, then I’m moving home,” Buffy said firmly. “I’ll drop out for the semester - just until Glory’s taken care of,” she said when Joyce opened her mouth to protest. “I can re-enroll next year when everything goes back to normal.”

“Buffy, maybe we should talk about this a little before you make such a drastic decision. I don’t want you to do anything rash.”

“This isn’t rash. It’s about protecting you and Dawn.” 

I know, and I appreciate it, but Dawn and I don’t want you disrupting your whole life trying to take care of us.”

“It’s not disrupting my whole life, it’s one semester. My classes aren’t the greatest this semester anyway,” Buffy said, with an attempt at humor. “It’ll be easy, I’ll just tell them you’re recovering a little slower than you thought and need my help at home.”

“Does that mean you’ll do my chores?” Dawn asked hopefully.

“In your dreams,” Buffy told her.

“It might be wise to set something up now, just in case,” Giles said. “A safe house, if you will. Somewhere you can always go in an emergency and where you can find each other.”

“You can use the mansion,” Xander offered, and all three women turned to look at him in surprise. He glanced at Spike and got an approving nod. “You’d still be in town but at least your name’s not on the mailbox. You aren’t connected with it. As long as you’re careful about being seen, Glory wouldn’t find you there.”

“Angel’s mansion?” Dawn exclaimed. “That’s great, Buffy says it’s a really cool house.”

“Drafty and overdone,” Spike told her dismissively. “But it’s got no sewer access so it’s as safe as anywhere in this town.”

~~~~~~~

In the end, Dawn and Joyce decided to stay home for the time being, keeping the mansion for emergencies. Xander volunteered to get the house ready, in case they actually had to use it. Buffy would talk to the administration office about quitting school for the semester - Joyce had insisted she find out how it would affect her ability to re-enroll and her grade point average before doing anything irreversible. It was obvious the home visit from Glory had rattled them both badly, which Xander sympathized with and understood. Other than the zombies at the beginning of their senior year, Xander didn’t think anything had attacked Buffy in her home. And Glory had threatened Joyce and Dawn personally, as people Buffy cared about, not just because they happened to be there. 

He’d broached the subject of telling Tara and Ethan about Dawn, pointing out that they were going to figure it out anyway, especially Ethan who made a practice of lurking and listening. Buffy hadn’t been ready to hear it though, insisting that Tara would be safer not knowing and stating flatly that she wouldn’t trust Ethan to know the truth under any circumstances.

Xander had been a bit surprised that Giles hadn’t defended Ethan, but he’d simply agreed that it wasn’t time yet. Fortunately, Ethan had been gone on one of his mysterious errands when Buffy dragged her mother and sister into the store. For someone who didn’t seem to work, or do anything other than spend time with Giles and poke around in other people’s business, Ethan found a lot to keep him busy. It wasn’t unusual for him to disappear for a day or two, always refusing to explain afterwards where he’d been or what he’d been doing. Xander was pretty sure he did it just for effect: for all he knew, Ethan was innocently visiting his grandmother, but Buffy regarded his unexplained absences with deep suspicion - which was probably why Ethan refused to explain them. Buffy’s unflagging dislike and distrust seemed to amuse the chaos mage.

Of course, Xander thought with a suppressed grin, it was possible that this time Ethan had just decided to prudently absent himself in case Spike hadn’t enjoyed the handcuffs. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It felt like they were all holding their breaths for the next couple of days but, once again, Glory didn’t follow through. She didn’t return to the house on Revello Drive, or the Magic Box, and gradually, they all relaxed again.

It was driving Giles crazy the way she vanished off the face of the earth between appearances and he had been driving himself relentlessly, reading his most obscure texts, desperately seeking any explanation for why such a powerful being would only show herself intermittently. He had come up with all sorts of theories about power drains and partial manifestations, and transdimensional fluctuations, all of which - as Ethan so acidly pointed out - were complete supposition and largely useless.

Buffy withdrew from her classes and moved back home. Giles, Xander, Tara and Dawn had gone to her room on Saturday to help her move boxes. Despite the joking and laughter, Buffy had an air of melancholy. Watching her survey her empty room one final time under the pretext of ensuring she hadn’t left anything behind, Xander’s heart ached for her. College had been Buffy’s shot at a normal life. Despite demon roommates and a government operative boyfriend, she’d been able to recapture some of her pre-Slayer life. She had friends who didn’t know she was the Slayer, had attended parties that didn’t involve mayhem beyond what was normal for drunken college kids, and most of her professors had tried to educate her, not kill her. 

She’d sighed quietly and turned to leave, manufacturing a cheerful smile for Xander. He pretended he hadn’t noticed anything, throwing an arm around her and offering to spring for pizza. She’d accepted with a grateful smile and, by the time they got down the stairs and rejoined the others, she had been arguing with him amiably over whether pineapple was an acceptable topping.

She’d been restless since then, patrolling more than usual, and spending her days hanging out at the magic shop talking with Tara, training with Giles, and exchanging barbed insults with Ethan. Rather than spend time at the house alone, Dawn now came to the magic shop every afternoon after school, unless she was at a friend’s house - no one wanted to risk her being alone at home if Glory made a return visit. Xander and Spike also began to make daily trips to the shop.

It felt like they were suspended in limbo, waiting to hear from the Council or the Coven, waiting for Glory to make a move, waiting for a shoe to drop. When it did, it wasn’t one they’d been expecting.

Giles hung up the phone but didn’t move, sitting staring into space for a long moment. 

“Mr. Giles?” Tara asked quietly. I-is everything alright?”

He started, then looked around, realizing that everyone was staring at him. “Yes, quite alright.” He looked at Buffy. “It seems the Council of Watchers have decided to pay us a visit.”

“They’re coming here?” Buffy exclaimed. “Now? No. Tell them to give us the information over the phone. Why do they have to come here?”

“I assume they believe the information is too sensitive to be trusted to a phone call,” Giles said. “They didn’t explain, just said to expect them soon.”

W-what’s so bad about them coming here?” Tara asked, looking around the group, puzzled. “Aren’t they good guys? I mean, Watchers, that’s just like other Gileses, right?”

“Yeah, they're scary and horrible,” Buffy told her. Giles raised his eyebrows and Ethan let out a quiet huff of laughter. 

Ethan never really attended the meetings. He just hung around the shop during the meetings, pretending to ignore them, listening to every word, and occasionally contributing sarcastic remarks. 

“They can appear a bit ... well, hard-nosed, but, essentially, their agenda is the same as ours: they want to save the world and kill demons,” Giles tried to explain, somewhat unconvincingly.

“There’s a good goal.”

“Sorry, Spike. I meant…”

“Please. Like those wankers could kill me anyway,” Spike told him, offended by the very suggestion.

“Giles,” Buffy said urgently, reclaiming his attention. “I don’t want them to come here. I don’t trust them. Make them not come here.”

“They’re probably already on their way,” Giles told her. “Quinton Travers is heading up the delegation.”

“The guy who tried to kill me with that crazy test?” Buffy asked incredulously. “Great.”

“Chances are he’s not planning on killing you this time,” Spike told her cheerfully. “But, you never know.”

“Gee, thanks, Spike,” Buffy said dryly.

“Buffy, I know you don’t want them here, but if the Council knows something about Glory, her agenda or her origins, then,” Giles gestured helplessly, “then maybe it will help us get a grip on what we’re dealing with. Right now, we’re fighting blind. We need to know anything they’ve learned.”

Buffy sighed. “I know. I still wish they’d just call.”

“They can’t intimidate you nearly as effectively over the phone,” Ethan said. 

“Intimidate? Who said anything about intimidation?” Buffy asked crankily.

Ethan just smiled, like he knew something the rest of them didn’t. “Just a thought.”


	26. Chapter 26

“The Watchers Council wants to interview your friends?” Xander asked incredulously. “Why?”

Buffy had asked to meet him at the coffee shop after work. When he’d arrived, she’d been sitting at a table in the back with an untouched cup of coffee in front of her, lost in thought. 

Everyone except Buffy and Giles had kept well clear of the magic shop yesterday, leaving the two of them to deal with the arriving members of the Watchers Council. No one wanted the Council anywhere near Dawn, so Joyce had left work early to pick Dawn up from school and take her home. Even Ethan had prudently absented himself, murmuring something about the Council and he not seeing eye to eye on things. 

Now, Buffy filled him in as they waited for Xander’s hot chocolate to arrive. The Council had sent a delegation of seven people, who’d swept into the shop and unceremoniously closed it for business, shooing the browsing customers out the door. They claimed they’d learned a great deal about Glory and the Key but had refused to disclose what they’d found unless Buffy performed to their satisfaction in a series of tests to evaluate her fitness as a Slayer.

Xander was still staring at Buffy in disbelief when she told him the Council also wanted to interview the friends.

“Not all my friends, just the ones that help me as Slayer.” Buffy scrubbed her hands through her hair before giving him a frustrated look. “It’s part of this review they’re insisting on. You’re one of the few people I can let them talk to because you’re human. I’m scared to give them the names of any of the demons who’ve been helping me - who knows how they’d react to learning that demons have been helping me patrol.”

“Good point. So you want to give them a few plausible dummies?”

“I thought you and Rob and maybe Tara.”

“Tara?” Xander asked in disbelief. “And why Rob? He’s half Kyrirtakii.”

“But he can pass for human. The Council won’t know he’s part demon. And, I know Tara doesn’t patrol, but she helps research and stuff.” 

“You sure they’re going to like the fact that you have a witch helping you?” Xander asked gloomily. “I’m having a hard time understanding this review thing. You’re telling me that the Council has information about a seriously bad-ass demon - or whatever. One who’s kicked your ass more than once - sorry.” Buffy waved off the apology. “And they’ll only give it to you if, what? You pass their tests? Are they kidding?” 

“They say they need to know if I’m good enough to entrust the information to.” 

“What do they care if you’re good enough or not? Who exactly are they planning to have fight Glory if you flunk their tests?” Aware that his voice was rising, Xander sat back in his chair and took a calming sip of his drink. Something was up. This didn’t make any sense at all. Buffy shouldn’t be knuckling under like this. “What’s going on, Buffy? Why haven’t you told them what they can do with their review?”

Buffy gave him a haunted look. “They threatened to deport Giles.”

“Can they do that?” he asked, as soon as he recovered from the shock of her blunt statement.

“Giles says they can.” Buffy sounded almost frightened by the idea. “I can’t lose him, Xander.”

“None of us can.” Giles was the steady rock at their center, the one who kept them calm and focused when everything was going to hell - sometimes literally. He was father-figure and mentor to them all and Xander couldn’t imagine life without his presence in their midst. 

“Even without that, I don’t think I can fight them over this - much as I want to punch that Travers guy.” Buffy sounded wistful at the thought. “I need the information they have. It may be my only chance to fight Glory. To protect Dawn.”

“Do you really think they’re going to withhold the information? They have to live in this world too. Problems on the Hellmouth tend to get bigger than Sunnydale.”

“I have to know what they have, Xander. I have to know how to fight her. I don’t know if she’s a big enough threat to worry them - England’s pretty far away. They might be willing to let Sunnydale be destroyed if it will get them a shiny new Slayer who’s willing to listen to them.”

“Oh.” There wasn’t much he could say to that. Now that she’d brought it up, he imagined the Council would do a lot to get a new Slayer, one they could control.

“So, when do they want to meet with me?” he asked, resigned to participating in this farce.

Buffy smiled at him gratefully.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four of them were waiting for him in the back room of the Magic Box; three men and a woman, all in business suits and clearly out to intimidate the working guy in his dusty jeans and t-shirt. 

“You’re William the Bloody’s Consort?” The dark-haired man asked. With his slicked back hair and dark suit, Xander was reminded of Wesley when he’d first shown up, straight from the Council and full of arrogant certainty that he knew best. It was not a memory that invited confidence.

He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall. Since the Watchers hadn’t bothered to introduce themselves, Xander had refused to sit down, despite the table that had been brought in for the purpose. The dark haired man who’d done all the talking so far had sat down at the table, pulling a notebook and pen out of his briefcase and laying them neatly on the table. The other two men had faded into the background, apparently there more as muscle than anything else. The woman took a middle ground, not conducting the interrogation, but standing behind the guy at the table like she was prepared to jump in at any moment. Xander just rolled his eyes at the man’s opening sally.

“No. I’m his Claimed human. What’s this got to do with me helping Buffy?”

“As I explained, we are conducting an exhaustive review of the Slayer’s methods and skills. Since she is still involving civilians in her work, we wish to interview you about your role in her slaying. What you contribute, how you view her skills, and so forth.” The Watcher stared down his nose at Xander disapprovingly - an impressive feat considering he was standing and the guy was seated. “As for my question, it is of great concern to the Council that the Slayer permits both a vampire and a vampire’s paramour in her inner circle.” He paused briefly, then asked smoothly: “Since you are not consort, how exactly would you characterize your relationship with the vampire?”

“We live together and have truly spectacular sex on a regular basis,” Xander told him, exasperated, enjoying the flustered look on the man’s face at his bluntness. “Are we through with the voyeuristic part of this conversation?”

“Bloody well hope so, unless they want a demo. That’d be alright.” 

Xander turned and saw Spike leaning against the doorframe in one of his trademark poses, looking dangerous and almost unbearably sexy in black jean and a tight black t-shirt. He bit his lip to keep from laughing as the Watcher guy jumped up and hastily scrambled back away from Spike, pulling a cross out of his suit coat as he did. What wasn’t funny was the two guys by the wall pulling small crossbows out of their suits and leveling them at Spike.

“Hurt him, and I promise you won’t leave the room alive,” Xander told them grimly. He stepped forward, deliberately placing himself in front of Spike and blocking their line of fire. He ignored Spike’s attempt to move him to one side, glaring at the Watchers until they lowered their crossbows slightly.

When it looked like no-one was going to do anything stupid, Xander relaxed slightly, still standing between the Watchers and Spike, he pulled Spike’s arms around his waist and leaned back against the vampire’s smaller frame comfortably. “What are you doing here?” he asked Spike quietly.

“Thought these gits might be givin’ you a hard time.” Unlike Xander, Spike didn’t bother lowering his voice. Without shifting to his vampire features, he still managed to display a remarkable amount of fang in the cold smile he sent in the Watchers’ direction.

“No, we’re good. Right, guys?” Xander asked brightly. 

The lead guy gathered himself up, settling his suit jacket and clearing his throat nervously. “I understand you also assist the Slayer?” He didn’t lower his cross but he didn’t make a move to attack either, so that was probably as good as it was going to get.

Spike shrugged. “When I’m bored. Not like I care about fighting evil.”

The woman took a step forward. “You help the Slayer?” she asked curiously, speaking for the first time. “I’d think you’d want to kill her. You’ve killed Slayers before.” 

“Heard of me, have you?” Spike purred. Xander rolled his eyes. Spike was incredibly vain about his reputation among demons for pure evil and obviously loved knowing that Watchers knew of his rep as well.

The woman was almost simpering at Spike, a look which didn’t go well with her severely tailored suit and prim hairstyle. “I wrote my thesis on you,” she told him, a hint of color showing in her cheeks at the admission. 

“Isn’t that neat.” Spike smirked at her over Xander’s shoulder.

“Perhaps we should return to the topic at hand,” the male Watcher suggested, giving the woman a withering look. “What precisely do you do for the Slayer?” he asked Xander, although his wary gaze only left Spike for fleeting moments.

“Not much,” Xander admitted cheerfully. “Mostly I just lend a hand in major battle situations.”

Spike stirred behind him as if he wanted to protest Xander’s belittling his contributions, then subsided without saying anything, obviously agreeing with Xander’s strategy of telling the Watchers as little as possible. His arms tightened around Xander’s waist and he pulled Xander closer against his body as the questioning continued.

“Have you mastered any fighting disciplines over the years?”

“Nope.”

The Watcher frowned at him. “So, you have no special skills, or powers, or knowledge that you bring to the mix?” he asked.

“Just your basic self-defense skills.”

“I see.” The man studied him for a moment, then shifted his eyes to Spike, taking in the protective stance and the way Spike was eyeing the Watchers. Xander couldn’t see Spike’s expression without turning his head, but he was pretty sure Spike was giving the Watchers his “I’m evil” look.

“Why does the Slayer allow you to work with her?” he asked Spike.

Spike tilted his head and Xander hastily elbowed him in the ribs, subtly enough that the Watchers wouldn’t see, reminding his vampire that they’d agreed to this for Dawn’s sake. The last thing they needed was Spike insisting that Buffy worked for him, not the other way around. Somehow, he suspected the Watchers wouldn’t be happy with that answer.

“Not about to turn down an extra axe in an apocalypse, is she?” Spike told them, and Xander sighed inaudibly in relief.

“Why aren’t you trying to kill her?” Jeez were they trying to get Buffy killed? Xander thought incredulously. That had almost sounded like a suggestion.

“Because of me,” he said hastily, cutting Spike off before he could say anything. “She’s a friend and he agreed not to kill my friends as a favor to me.” He hoped they’d be satisfied with that. It left Spike the face-saving implication that he was only not killing Xander’s friends, not that he wasn’t killing at all. 

“So you don’t care if he kills humans?” the Watcher asked, focusing intently on Xander for the first time since Spike entered the room.

“That’s none of your business. I agreed to answer questions about Buffy. You have obviously missed the point that I don’t give a damn what you think of me, or my relationship with Spike.”

He hoped he hadn’t done any irreparable damage, but from the way Spike had tensed when the questions turned to their relationship, he didn’t trust Spike’s ability to keep himself in check. 

The Watcher closed his notebook stiffly. “I think we have all we need. Thank you for your time.”

Xander let his head fall back against Spike as the Council members filed out, not turning their backs on Spike until they were out of the room. 

“That went well,” Spike commented.

“Only in the sense that they left here alive,” Xander told him.

“Like I said,” his vampire smirked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So far the only thing that’s going well is that they haven’t asked to meet with mom and Dawn,” Buffy said gloomily. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear they’re deliberately trying to rub my nose in the fact that I’m not like other Slayers.” 

They’d met at the coffee shop again, far away from prying Watcher ears, and Xander had listened sympathetically as Buffy poured out her frustrations and fears about how the review was going.

“Buffy, most Slayers don’t live more than a year after they’re called,” Xander reminded her. “You’re a lot better than other Slayers.”

“But Slayers are supposed to know stuff. Mr. Travers expected me to know the names of jiu-jitsu and karate moves. In Japanese. I’m screwing up, Xander. I’m failing this review. I’m not even getting the physical part right, and that was the one thing that wasn’t worrying me. Yesterday, I managed to kill the guy I was supposed to protect from an attacker.”

“What?”

Buffy gestured dismissively. “It was just a dummy, but I managed to bury an axe in its chest. Not exactly saving the helpless victim.”

Once he got over the shock of thinking she’d killed someone for real, Xander started laughing. 

“It’s not funny, Xander,” Buffy told him, glaring at him, which just made him laugh harder. After a moment, a smile twitched her lips. “Ok, maybe it’s a little funny.” Her smile died almost immediately. “What am I going to do?”

“Buffy, before he was fired, Giles used to send regular reports to the Council, right?”

Buffy frowned. “I guess. Why?”

“Well, unless they never read them, the Council has to know that you don’t speak Japanese and aren’t the best demon scholar on the planet. Why are they testing you on stuff they know you don’t know?”

“They want me to fail,” she guessed unhappily.

“Right. So the question is - why do they want you to fail?”

“I’m back to them rubbing my nose in it.” 

“Exactly.”

Buffy stared at him. “But what does that do for them? Or anyone else, for that matter?”

“Well, what happens if you fail?” Buffy looked panicked at the very thought. “They aren’t going to pack their bags and head home to England without giving you the information on Glory. That would be one hell of a risk to take. Plus, they could have refused to give you the information without ever leaving the comforts of home.” He and Spike had talked about this and Xander had gotten the glimmer of an idea. “I don’t think they came all the way here from England just for the pleasure of humiliating you personally. I think they’re setting you up, assuming you’ll go crawling to them, begging for the information they have when you fail this ridiculous review. They know you, Buffy. They knew enough to threaten to take Giles away from you. And I’ll bet they know how much you care about protecting people. You’ll do whatever it takes, even kissing their asses, if necessary.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then slowly straightened. “You think this is all just a bluff. A way to bring me to heel.”

“That’s exactly what I think. You’ve been doing fine without them for - what? Two years now?” The stand-off between Buffy and the Council had begun just after Wesley resigned as Buffy’s Watcher. Right after graduation, Wesley had urged the Council to reinstate Giles, the Council had refused, and Buffy had refused to accept any other Watcher in his place. Stalemate. “But ask yourself: what the hell have they been doing for the last two years without a Slayer? Playing tiddledewinks? My guess is they’re the laughingstock of the demon fighting community.”

Buffy shook her head, but a smile was gradually widening on her face. “I don’t think there’s a demon fighting community to laugh at them,” she said.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.” Buffy stood up. “Thanks, Xander. I think I need to talk to Giles.”

Xander leaned back comfortably and gave her an encouraging smile. “Go get ‘em.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why are they here?” Quentin Travers frowned at Xander, Spike and Tara as they filed into the room behind Buffy. 

At Buffy’s request, they’d waited in the back room while she confronted the Council. Ignoring Spike’s annoyance at missing the show, she’d pointed out that the Council was a lot more likely to back down if they could do it without an audience, particularly one that included a vampire. Spike had settled for using his vampire hearing to eavesdrop on the confrontation with Travers and his sidekicks and had gleefully given a play-by-play description to Tara and Xander as they waited out of sight. Buffy had refused to participate in the Council’s review, pointed out that, without a Slayer, they were a useless bunch of losers, and told Travers that, if they didn’t give her the information on Glory, she was going to beat it out of them. All interspersed with personal insults, critiquing everything from their personal grooming and lack of fashion sense to their stuffed shirt mannerisms. 

Ok, so Xander suspected Spike was putting his own spin on what Buffy was actually saying to the Council.

Still, he almost cheered out loud when Spike told them that the Council had just agreed to reinstate Giles as Buffy’s official Watcher, and even pay him retroactively for the years of unofficial service. 

“They’re here because what you have to say concerns them as well,” Buffy told Travers calmly. “They’re all risking their lives, they deserve to know what you’ve learned.” 

Travers nodded reluctantly, accepting their presence. Xander supposed that, having caved on the big issue, this was a minor one. “There’s a lot to go through,” Travers began. He held out his hand and one of the junior Watchers handed him a manila folder, bulging with papers.

“For now, just tell me what kind of demon I’m fighting,” Buffy said, not waiting for him to collect his thoughts.

“Well, that’s the thing, you see.” Travers said slowly, “Glory isn’t a demon.”

“What is she?” Buffy asked, hiding her fear. Xander could tell she knew what was coming. They all did. If Glory wasn’t a demon, her minion must have been right.

“She’s a god,” Travers told her with frightening certainty, making it official: they were so screwed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They all drifted into the magic shop the next morning, as agreed, the Council safely on their way back to England. 

Giles was already seated at the round table they used for meetings when the others arrived. He’d practically snatched the file on Glory out of Travers’ hand last night and it was obvious from the lines of fatigue on his face that he’d been up all night reading it. Ethan sat at the table by his side, leafing through the contents of the file, looking as unconcerned as if it held nothing more serious than recipes.

When they had all taken seats around the table, Giles cleared his throat and began. “From what the Council was able to discover from the book of Tarnis and other sources, Glory and two of her fellow hellgods once ruled over one of the more seriously unpleasant demon dimensions,” Giles informed them. 

“There’s more than one?” Tara asked.

“Thousands, actually,” Ethan told her absently, not looking up from his reading. 

“The Council was unable to find anything specific about how or why Glory came here. Just vague references to chaos and destruction,” Giles finished.

“Okay, so, we know where she’s from,” Buffy said impatiently. “What do we know about her? I mean, she’s tough, but, like we’ve said before: no bolts of lightning, no blasts of fire, shouldn’t a god be able to do that kind of stuff?”

“Being in human form appears to be severely limiting her powers,” Giles told her. “All we have to worry about right now is that she’s immortal, invulnerable, and insane.”

“‘Cause those are such piddling little worries,” Spike commented.

“A crazy hellgod?” Xander exclaimed. “And the fun just keeps on leaving.”

Giles grimaced, looking uncomfortable. “From what the Council has been able to gather, her living in this world is seriously affecting her mental state. She’s only being able to keep her mind intact by, well, by extracting energy from us. From the human brain.”

Tara looked ill. “Sh-she’s a brain-sucker?” she whispered.

Giles tweaked a document back from Ethan. “She…,” he found the spot he was looking for and began to read out loud: “‘absorbs the energies that bind the human mind into a cohesive whole.’” He set the paper down again and looked at them. “Once drained, all that’s left behind is, well…,” 

“Crazy people,” Buffy finished flatly.

“Which is, I’m afraid, why there’s been a marked increase in the ranks of the mentally unstable here in Sunnydale.”

“At least vampires just kill you,” Tara said quietly into the silence.

Xander looked around the room at the circle of grim faces. “So, bottom line, the Council doesn’t have much that we didn’t already know.”

“Except the part where we now know she’s an insane hellgod,” Giles summed up.

“But, it’s not like we didn’t know that before,” Xander reminded him. “Ok, we were guessing at the crazy part, but other than that, nothing’s changed.”

“It’s completely changed, Xander,” Buffy snapped. “It’s one thing to be told by a scabby minion that Glory is his god. For all we know he also worshipped toadstools and Britney Spears. This is the Council telling us Glory really is a god. I can’t fight a god.”

“Already have,” Spike observed.

Buffy shot him a withering look. “Not like it did us any good.”

Spike shrugged. “We’re alive, aren’t we?”

“You’re not,” she snapped, then immediately held up her hands in apology. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t…” She ran a shaky hand through her hair, pushing it back impatiently. “I’ve been telling myself that the Council would have everything we need. Instead, all we have is more useless information. We know what Glory is and where she’s from. None of that helps us fight her.”

“On the contrary, there are some rather interesting facts in here, buried in amongst the useless speculation.” Ethan said. 

“What have you found?” Giles asked eagerly, bending over the papers.

“A rather intriguing description of the Beast, from the Knights of Byzantium.” 

Buffy’s head snapped around in obvious shock. “Right. Them. I forgot. Well, not so much forgot as got sidetracked.” She made a face. “Sorry, Giles.”

“Buffy?” Giles asked, looking up from the documents, puzzled by her rambling non-explanation.

“The Knights of Byzantium. They’re in Sunnydale.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	27. Chapter 27

Giles held up his hands to halt the jumble of questions that greeted Buffy’s announcement. “One at a time, please.” He dropped his hands as everyone quieted down and took his glasses off, beginning to polish them absentmindedly. “Buffy, what do you mean the Knights of Byzantium are here in Sunnydale?”

“As in three of them attacked me on the way to the Magic Box last night.” She gestured apologetically. “It wasn’t much of a fight, and I was more worried about the Council than them, so I kind of forgot to mention it. And what is with those guys? Chain mail and swords?” She gave Giles a slightly accusing look. “I mean, I just assumed they were normal people with a stupid name. Suddenly, it’s like I’m in the middle of the Crusades.”

“Look who’s talking,” Xander raised his eyebrows, gesturing towards the back room where Giles kept the weapons out of sight of the customers.

“I have never worn chain mail.” Buffy told him indignantly.

“Only because it doesn’t go with your outfit,” Ethan murmured, which earned him a glare from Buffy.

Giles cleared his throat. Xander suspected it was to conceal the fact that he’d almost laughed at Ethan’s comment. “The Knights may cling to tradition in a way that defies rationality,” Giles conceded, “but they are trained warriors. From what I understand, they adopt very young boys and raise them in complete isolation from the modern world, instilling fanatic loyalty to their quest in them.”

“One of them claimed he could bring thousands of Knights into Sunnydale. Any chance he’s telling the truth?” Buffy asked worriedly. “’Cause I gotta tell you, three of them - not that hard to deal with, but I don’t think I can take a thousand of them.”

“I’m not really sure,” Giles said hesitantly. “The Knights shroud themselves in secrecy. Thousands does seem unlikely but I would venture that their numbers are certainly more than just a handful. There could be a hundred of them or even more possibly, and I suppose a thousand is not beyond the realm of possibility,” Giles answered, looking troubled.

“On the other hand, a thousand guys could come in handy against Glory,” Xander said thoughtfully. “They’re here to kill her, right? Maybe we can join forces.”

“No. They want to destroy the Key, not kill Glory,” Buffy said flatly. “And they want to kill me because I won’t tell them where the Key is. They know I’m the Slayer and they don’t care. That’s when the Knight claimed he could bring an army of a thousand soldiers to fight me.”

“Great. Haven’t these guys ever heard of ’the enemy of my enemy is my ally’?” Xander grumbled. “Why are they so hot to destroy the Key? Shouldn’t they be worrying about Glory instead?”

“I suspect they realize they aren’t a match for Glory, so they prefer to concentrate on the Key. From what little I’ve been able to learn, the Knights believe the Key is too powerful to be allowed to exist,” Giles explained. 

“That’s obvious from their rather dull creed.” Ethan lifted a document from the stack and began reading aloud: “‘The Key is the link. The link must be severed. Such is the will of God.’” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Buffy asked impatiently.

Ethan set the paper down and regarded her steadily. “It’s the statement of their deepest purpose. As for it’s meaning..,” He shrugged. “Given that we already know that Glory intends to use the Key to return to her home dimension, I presume the term ‘link’ refers to the Key being the link between Glory and her home. Severing the link undoubtedly means destroying the Key. The last bit is the one all religious fanatics use to justify their actions,” he finished snidely.

“So, we can’t look to the Knights for help,” Buffy summarized. “Already knew that actually.”

Ethan shot her a sly look. “Not unless you want the Key destroyed.” Buffy bristled immediately and Ethan smirked at her. “In any case, the monk told Xander that the Key was both energy and a portal. Energy used to open a portal is often consumed in the act of opening. The only way to preserve the Key is undoubtedly to ensure that it is never used. And that the Knights don’t get their hands on it.”

“Not to mention that who knows what would happen if that kind of portal between dimensions is opened,” Giles said quietly. “It could be disastrous for this dimension.”

“There is that,” Ethan acknowledged. “Still, protecting the Key from a thousand of those fellows isn’t going to be easy. You might want to re-consider that idea about taking your sister out of town.”

For a long moment, none of them breathed, frozen into immobility by the shock. Then, almost as one, they turned slowly to stare at Ethan, who simply raised a mocking eyebrow in return. “I’m not stupid. I’ve known about the Key for some time. And I don’t really fancy being caught in the middle of a pitched battle involving an army of medieval warriors wielding swords.”

Spike moved like lightning, the sound of his chair overturning completely drowned out by Ethan’s cry of pain as Spike slammed him back against the wall, pinning him there with one hand around Ethan’s throat.

“Spike!” Giles yelled, even as Buffy moved, grabbing Spike’s free arm and stopping it in mid-motion as it drove forward with lethal intent. Spike snarled furiously and tightened his grip on Ethan’s throat. Ethan clawed frantically at Spike’s fingers, struggling and kicking as Spike slowly and inexorably tightened his grip, cutting off Ethan’s air.

Xander moved quickly, both hands closing around Spike’s arm, even as Buffy still clung to the other. “Spike,” he said with quiet urgency. “Please. Don’t kill him. We need to know what he knows.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Spike tore his yellow-eyed glare away from Ethan, turning his head to look into Xander’s pleading eyes.

“Please,” he said again, and tugged gently on Spike’s arm. 

With a growl, Spike shoved Ethan back against the wall one final time, then released his grip, watching with satisfaction as Ethan sagged, beginning to slide down the wall until Giles grabbed him and stopped his downward movement. Ethan was sucking in air with loud whooping breaths, one shaking hand going to his throat.

“Bloody hell! I wouldn’t hurt her,” Ethan complained, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

Spike snarled something inarticulate and started forward again. Buffy tightened the grip she still held on his arm and Giles stepped between Spike and his intended prey, shoving Spike backwards. 

“Enough!” he shouted. “Back off, Spike.”

“You heard what he said, Watcher,” Spike snarled. “He’s not leaving here alive.”

“How long have you known?” Buffy asked, finally releasing her hold on Spike’s arm, her voice a stunned whisper.

Ethan shrugged, trying for insouciance but his wary gaze didn’t leave Spike as he rubbed gingerly at his neck. “A while. Wasn’t that hard to figure out. You lot aren’t very good at hiding things.”

“He n-n-not the only one,” Tara said hesitantly, from the other side of the table. “I-I know about Dawn too.” She ducked her head, color flaring in her cheeks as they all turned to stare at her.

“How?” Xander asked gently, when it looked like Buffy was too stunned to speak.

“The spell,” Tara told them. “You remember? Th-the one to see other s-s-spells.” She flicked a quick glance at Buffy before ducking her head again. “There w-w-were some things in your house that seemed…off while I was in the t-trance,” she said, her nervousness making her stutter worse than any of them had heard in a long time. “Later, I figured out it must have been because Dawn was the Key.” She looked earnestly at them all. “I haven’t t-t-told anyone. I w-w-would never hurt Dawn.”

“I know you wouldn’t, Tara,” Buffy said. “But I’m not so sure about him.” Her gaze swung back to Ethan accusingly.

“Known for a couple weeks. Haven’t sold her out yet, have I?” Ethan reminded them stiffly. “You think Ripper would ever speak to me again if I betrayed that little girl?”

“Buffy,” Giles said quietly. “Now that the cat is rather thoroughly out of the bag, I’m asking you to trust Ethan. For my sake. It know you would rather he didn’t know, but you must admit, it appears he hasn’t acted on that knowledge.”

“May not have had the chance yet,” Spike pointed out. Despite his words, he relaxed slightly, stepping away from Ethan and leaning against the wall, where he gave Ethan an intent look. “Dawn comes to any harm because of you, not only is my protection withdrawn, but I will kill you myself,” he said with deadly calm.

“If I don’t get there first,” Buffy said with equal grimness. Seeming to accept the situation, although clearly not happy about it, she picked up her own overturned chair and sat back down at the table. 

“Thanks for the warning,” Ethan said, but subsided at Giles’ pointed look. 

“Right then,” Giles said. “We were discussing the Council’s information. Ethan, you said you found something I missed in the Council’s documents?” He picked up Ethan’s overturned chair and gestured for him to sit, his hard stare not giving Ethan a choice in the matter.

“Yes,” Ethan sat down carefully, wincing slightly as he did, and gathered up the scattered papers in front of him. “There was a passage I found rather intriguing.” For a moment he shuffled through the papers, then pulled a particular one out of the stack. 

“‘The Beast shall be bound, though none shall know the name of its prison, mortal flesh shall be its only weakness,’” he read out loud.

“Huh?” Xander said blankly.

Ethan shrugged, already returning to his usual sardonic self. “Medieval priests weren’t known for the clarity of their writing.”

Giles slid the paper over and read the passage himself. “‘None shall know the name of its prison.’” 

“Her mortal flesh hasn’t been much of a weakness so far,” Spike pointed out from where he still leaned against the wall, the only one of them who hadn’t returned to the seat at the table. “Swords and axes just bounce off her.”

“Yes, but consider that description in context with Glory’s pattern of disappearing. If she is bound in some form of prison, then it may be that we are seeing her in moments when she escapes that prison.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Buffy objected. “If she escaped her prison, she should be out.”

“Thinking like a human again, Slayer,” Spike told her. “Not talkin’ about San Quentin here. Bound to be some kind of mystical prison to hold somethin’ that strong.”

“And that may mean that she can only escape for short periods of time,” Giles said slowly. “She must expend a tremendous amount of energy to escape and therefore becomes trapped inside her prison again whenever she tires.”

“But what does it mean about no one knowing the name of her prison, and mortal flesh being her weakness?” Xander asked.

“Perhaps a spell that requires a ritual sacrifice,” Giles said, obviously thinking out loud. “Or it could be that her need to feed off humans is her weakness.”

“Cut off her supply of human brains, you mean?” Buffy made a face. Much as I’d love to, because brain sucking - just euuwww. But if we don’t even know where she is, how are we going to stop her from getting any victims?”

“Interesting as all this speculation is,” Ethan said. “I was thinking more along the lines that her prison may be an actual human.”

“What?” Buffy asked for them all.

“Well, what other kind of prison has a name and mortal flesh?”

“You mean, she’s somehow imprisoned inside an ordinary human body?” Giles asked slowly. “That’s quite a stretch.”

“No more than it is for demons to live inside human bodies,” Ethan gestured towards Spike. “And vampires are certainly a dime a dozen.”

Spike tilted his head as they all turned to stare at him. “Bit different with vampires. My demon can’t go strollin’ ‘round town without this body.”

“It might be possible with magic,” Tara said. She’d been so quiet that they’d almost forgotten she was there. Giles smiled at her encouragingly.

“What do you mean, Tara?”

“I-I was thinking about what Glory looks like. A hellgod from another dimension d-doesn’t seem like it should look like a normal person. But humans can be p-possessed by energy. Like the vessel spell we used last year to fight Adam. Xander s-still looked the same, but he was able to do things under the spell that he w-wouldn’t otherwise have been able to do.” She took a deep breath and looked around, seeming to gain a little confidence from their attentive faces.

“If Mr. Rayne is right, then Glory’s energy, her… life-force, could be trapped inside a human body. When Glory escapes and takes over, the woman who’s body it is may not remember anything. The rest of the time, she could be just living a normal life, going to work, and not even knowing anything is wrong. M-maybe that’s why we haven’t been able to find her.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once again, they were left with too much speculation and nothing concrete to go on, waiting for Glory to show herself. Ethan and Tara’s theories about Glory’s prison were certainly plausible but they had no way of testing them. As Spike pointed out, they couldn’t exactly tie Glory up and wait to see if she manifested a split personality. 

Giles continued to pour over the Council’s materials, reading them over and over again, trying to glean additional facts that could be used to help defeat Glory. They passed the Council’s information on to the demon community, and Mr. Olsen promised to re-check their sources for anything new.

Buffy was tense and irritable, wanting to do something, anything, about stopping Glory. Surprisingly, some of her antagonism towards Ethan seemed to be fading - probably because he continued to ignore Dawn and there was no sign he intended to exploit his knowledge of her nature.

Buffy was unenthusiastic when the topic of her impending 20th birthday came up, raised by Dawn and Giles several days after the Council left.

“Look,” Buffy said. “I know Mom wants to gather and make with the merry tomorrow night, but with everything that’s going on…”

“A party is exactly what you need,” Tara said quietly.

“You are so having a party, Buffy,” Dawn chimed in. “Mom made me clean the living room for like two hours yesterday getting ready for it.”

“Which is what you’re supposed to do every week,” Buffy told her unsympathetically. “I just don’t think this is the best time to break out the party piñata. We need to stay focused if we’re going to find a way to stop Glory.”

“Sorry, Buff,” Xander said cheerfully. “The rest of us want cake, so we’re gonna have to overrule you on this one.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And it had been fun. Gathered in the familiar living room, with a pile of colorfully wrapped presents, Buffy had relaxed for the first time in days, becoming gleefully girlish over the stack of boxes waiting for her.

“Prezzies!” she exclaimed.

“See?” Xander told her. “Just what you needed.”

“You are very, very wise,” Buffy said, laughing. “Now gimme, gimme, gimme!”

“It’s a good thing turning 20 has left you so mature,” Joyce said, shaking her head and handing her a neatly-wrapped box. “Otherwise I’d worry you were getting too old for presents.”

“You’re never too old for presents,” Buffy told her, ripping the wrapping off the box.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander followed Dawn out onto the porch carrying two plates. “Hey, Dawn. Brought you a piece of birthday cake.”

She turned to look at him, but didn’t make a move to take the plate he held out. “I’m not hungry.”

He set the plate down on the porch railing, along with his own. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Dawn shrugged. “The present I got Buffy,” she said.

Xander frowned. “The sweater? She seemed to really like it.”

“Mom picked it out.”

“So?”

Dawn scowled. “Stupid. I’d never pay that much. Buffy knows it’s from mom.”

“I think it’s still legal to get financial help with presents at 14,” he told her helplessly, not following the conversation at all.

“I made her a picture frame. Dumb - just a bunch of shells glued to a cheap frame.”

Xander tilted his head curiously. “What changed your mind?” 

“I had a picture of the two of us - me and Buffy at the beach, from when we visited Dad that summer in San Diego. We’d picked up the shells on the beach.”

“Sounds kinda nice,” Xander told her. “Why the sweater?”

“It wasn’t real. It never happened,” Dawn said bitterly.

“Oh, Dawn.” Xander wrapped his arms around her as she stood staring out over the lawn, looking so lost and scared. “It’s real, honey. The memories are real and so are the feelings. That’s all any of us have: things we remember and cherish about our past. We can’t touch them, or recapture them, any more than you can, but it doesn’t make them any less real.”

He turned her around to face him, his hands on her shoulders as he stared into her eyes. “When I moved in with Spike, I didn’t take much with me from my parents’ house. But I took the t-shirt you bought for me when you and Buffy went to Disneyland.” He smiled at her. “Even though I’ve never worn it, because it made me feel like an idiot to wear something that said ‘I love Mickey Mouse’. But I kept it and it’s still in my drawer because you gave it to me. I love you, Dawn. And it doesn’t matter when we actually met for the first time. Think of it, like… being a pen-pal from another dimension. We already knew all about you when you got here, so you were already a part of our lives. It just happened to be the first time we met you in person.” 

Dawn gave him a shaky smile, blinking hard. “Pen pals are lame.”

“Probably. Willow had one for awhile. And believe me, she knew everything about her pen pal.” 

Dawn looked like she was thinking about it, though her eyes were still troubled. 

“So, what’d’ya say? How about we go back inside and eat cake with your sister.”

“Ok.” She still sounded subdued as she collected the plate he’d brought out for her off the railing, but then she looked at him sideways with a hint of a smile. “I can’t believe you never wore the shirt I gave you. Unappreciative much?”

He laughed. “You’re alright, kid.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cake was history. Tara and Joyce were washing the dishes in the kitchen and the rest of them were lounging lazily around the living room. Buffy looked around at the small group. “Thanks, guys. It was really great to have a night off. Just food and fun, and nothing Hellmouthy.”

“Careful,” Dawn warned her, looking up from checking out the blouse Tara had gotten Buffy. “You’ll jinx it.”

“No, I’m feeling too good to care. Trouble can just keep on walking tonight,” Buffy told her, stretching in her chair like a contented cat.

And almost gave herself whiplash when the door knocker sounded and she snapped immediately back into tense readiness.

“Relax,” Giles told her with a half-smile. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” He rose to his feet and went to the front door just as Joyce came through the kitchen door, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “I’ll get it, Joyce,” he told her, opening the door as he spoke.

“Hi, Giles.”

Both Xander and Buffy froze at the familiar voice and Tara appeared in the kitchen door behind Joyce, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Willow?” 

Xander wasn’t sure which one of them breathed her name as Willow stepped inside the house, smiling a little nervously at the circle of stunned faces turned her way. “Surprise.”


	28. Chapter 28

Spike leaned against the fireplace, arms crossed over his chest, watching sardonically as the women clustered around the little redhead exclaiming over her hair, her clothes, her presence in Sunnydale. Even Xander and Rupert were joining in the welcome fest, neither of the two looking like they had any concern over the timing of this surprise visit as they enveloped the witch in hugs.

Spike cocked his head and considered the group as the initial flurry of welcome died down and people began to sit down and talk one at a time. Far as he could tell, none of them had been aware of the witch’s intent to return. Not the Watcher, who must have seen her when he contacted the coven while he was in England. Not the Slayer, who was in frequent email contact with her. Not Glinda, who talked to her daily through various means. Certainly not the rest of them.

The witch and Glinda were just taking seats together on the couch, their entwined fingers almost hidden by the fabric of their skirts. Xander came to stand beside Spike, giving him a questioning look, as their shoulders brushed. “You ok?” he asked, too quietly for the others to hear. Spike gave him a small nod, but didn’t take his eyes off the witch.

“Willow, why are you here?” Buffy held up her hands. “Not that it isn’t great to see you, but shouldn’t you be in school? Kind of a long commute from here to Oxford.”

“You didn’t think I’d let you have an apocalypse without me?” Willow said, obviously only half joking. “When I heard what you guys were facing, I wanted to be here. To see if I could help.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ok, Spike. What’s wrong?”

Spike slid a sideways glance at his boy as they walked back towards the apartment. To his relief, the party had broken up shortly after the witch’s arrival. Apparently, she’d come straight from the airport and, human-like, started showing signs of fatigue almost immediately. “Don’t trust the witch,” he said flatly. “Don’t trust her around you, don’t trust her around Dawn.”

“Spike, she’s not going to hurt anyone, especially Dawn.” 

“Her timing’s bloody convenient.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? She’s here because of Glory.”

“Uh huh. Because of Glory. Not because she’s heard we’ve got a powerful magical artifact stashed?” he said skeptically.

“Powerful…?” Xander began, then stopped in his tracks, turning to stare at Spike. “No. Spike, no. She wouldn’t do that.”

“She’s a witch,” he said flatly. “Power’s what she’s all about, Xander.”

“Tara’s a witch. You trust her.”

“Call her Glinda for a reason,” Spike told him. “Girl’s so kindhearted, she’s a bloody freak of nature. Nothing like Red.”

“Not all witches are power hungry. Maggie isn’t,” Xander said, with the faintly triumphant air of someone playing a trump card. 

Spike made a noncommittal sound. “Maybe,” he allowed. “Didn’t stop her from manipulating us last year.”

“She explained about that and apologized,” Xander reminded him. “The coven doesn’t usually work with others and they handled it badly.”

“So what’s Red doin’ here ‘working with others’.”

Xander smiled at him in the way that Spike hated. It was his ‘humoring the paranoid vampire’ smile. Just because Xander was too trusting and didn’t think enough about the danger that surrounded him, he thought Spike was paranoid. Spike scowled at him. Which didn’t do any good, as Xander’s smile broadened and, even in the dark, Spike could see the laughter in his eyes.

“Willow’s not part of the Coven, so she doesn’t have to follow their no interference rules,” he said patiently. “And Sunnydale is her home. Of course she’s worried when things have gotten bad enough for Buffy to quit school and move back home.” He slid an arm around Spike’s waist and started walking again. “Don’t worry so much. She did fine with the spell against Adam.”

“Had half the Coven here keepin’ an eye on her then,” Spike pointed out. 

“And she’s had another nine months or so since then without abusing magic,” Xander countered. “Plus, I think Tara’s been good for her.”

Silently, Spike agreed with that assessment. Glinda wouldn’t put up with any crap from the witch, that was for sure. There was a core of steel behind the gentle exterior of that one. “Just as long as Buffy doesn’t lose her head and tell her about Dawn,” was all he said.

“It’s Buffy’s call on whether to tell her, not ours.”

“Should be Dawn’s,” Spike grumped.

“I agree, but do you honestly think Dawn wouldn’t agree to tell Willow? Anyway, I’m hoping that Willow and Tara together can maybe come up with some spells that will work on Glory. Either that, or some way to magically protect Dawn from her.”

“Wouldn’t mind if Red came up with something that blows Glory’s head off,” Spike conceded.

“Great image,” Xander said wryly, making a face.

It was a pleasant image. As they continued walking through the quiet streets, Spike pictured Glory being shredded to bits, both magically and by more hands-on methods. A vampire could dream, couldn’t he?

He’d keep an eye on the little redhead himself. Long as she kept her mojo away from Xander and didn’t spend too much time with Dawn, he was willing to see if she could come up with anything that might help them against Glory. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander followed Buffy, Willow and Tara inside the Bronze, nearly bumping into Willow as she stopped abruptly inside the door, looking around with shining eyes at the familiar sights, sounds, and scents of the club. 

“Aren’t there any good hangouts near Oxford?” he asked, loudly enough to be heard over the band.

“Yes, but this is home,” she called back over her shoulder, and let Tara lead her to an empty table. 

It was just the four of them at Willow’s welcome back celebration. Spike had refused to have any part in welcoming Willow back to Sunnydale and the fact that they were meeting at the Bronze just made the vampire even more adamant that he wasn’t going. Xander was pleased that Buffy and Tara had automatically assumed that Spike was invited but suspected it was just as well that the vampire hadn’t wanted to come. Given that Willow and Spike both disliked and distrusted each other, Xander preferred to keep them apart whenever possible.

Buffy and Xander went to get drinks for them all, jostling for position at the crowded bar.  
Someone stumbled into Buffy just as she was handed her drink and Slayer reflexes weren’t enough to stop her from spilling half the glass. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m not usually that clumsy. Except, you know, in crowds, and anywhere else people can see me,” the dark-haired man apologized. 

“No harm done,” Buffy said, smiling at the man. “I’m pretty sure the floor’s been spilled on before.”

“Don’t I know you?”

“I don’t think so…” Buffy shook her head.

Oh crap. Xander suddenly realized where they’d seen the man before. 

“At the hospital,” the man suddenly exclaimed. “You were with the professor examining the bodies.” He stuck out his hand. “We didn’t get a chance to be introduced, I’m Ben.”

“I’m Buffy. And this is Xander.”

“Hi,” Xander said, lifting a hand in a half-hearted greeting.

“I didn’t recognize you without your hospital scrubs,” Buffy told him brightly, gesturing at Ben’s slacks and dress shirt.

“You’d be surprised at the extent of my wardrobe.”

“Really?”

“I actually have entire outfits that aren’t blue pajamas.”

This was not good. The two of them were settling into serious flirtation. Had Buffy forgotten that they’d been passing themselves off - badly - as biologists during their little outing to the hospital loony bin?

“Buffy, Tara and Willow are waiting for us,” he said, hoping he sounded casual and not desperate.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hold you up,” Ben said to both of them. “Can I buy you a replacement for your beer?” he asked Buffy with a charming smile that Xander was already tiring of.

Buffy started to decline but Ben didn’t give her a chance. “Please, or I’ll feel guilty for having deprived you of half your drink.”

Xander rolled his eyes as Buffy accepted. She barely took her own eyes off Ben as she handed Xander the three drinks for himself, Willow and Tara, telling him she’d catch up with him in a minute.

Giving in to the inevitable, he took the glass and left. Hopefully Ben wouldn’t ask too many questions about Buffy’s biology background. Or her hobby of investigating corpses.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy was on the dance floor with Ben, and Tara was at the bar getting another round of drinks. Which left Xander and Willow alone for the first time since she’d arrived back in town. Willow was looking around the Bronze, a nostalgic smile on her lips. Xander hated to interrupt her thoughts but he was curious.

“Willow, why didn’t you tell anyone you were coming?” he asked.

Willow turned back to face him. “I should have, I know. I was worried about you guys and I was afraid you would talk me out of coming back.”

“Me?”

“All of you,” she said with a little smile. “I really didn’t want to drop out, mostly because I love my classes and I love Oxford, but also because of my parents. I think I was still in pre-school when I learned that quitting school was just about the worst thing I could do. I mean, you know my mom, she’d say things like: ‘underachieving’ and ‘failing to reach potential’, not negative terms hard on the self-esteem like ‘quitter’ and ‘loser’, but still, it felt really weird to even think about dropping out and I so wasn’t able to talk about it in any kind of rational way, and I’m sorry, I got a little side-tracked there.”

“A little,” he agreed. It was comforting to know that some things hadn’t changed. Willow could still ramble on with the best of them.

“I was afraid you guys would talk me out of coming, so I just came.” She shook her head, looking sheepish. “So dumb. Because now that I’m here, I find out that I may have jumped the gun a bit. With Buffy quitting school and all, I kind of thought the apocalypse was a bit closer than it’s turned out to be.” She smiled at Tara who arrived back at their table just then. “Still, it’s nice being back. And hey, party not battle, so I guess that’s good.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy came back to the table, flushed and happy and looking the tiniest bit apologetic. “Will, I’m sorry. It’s your party and I didn’t mean to abandon you.”

Willow smiled at her cheerfully. “I’m feeling very un-abandoned,” she said. “Who’s the cutie?”

Buffy glanced back over her shoulder at Ben, who smiled and gave her a little wave from the corner where he’d joined a group of friends. “That’s Ben. He’s an intern at Sunnydale General.” She looked back and smiled impishly at Willow. “He is cute, isn’t he?”

Xander rolled his eyes. “Buffy, you do remember that we told this guy we were some kind of biologists, right?”

“What?” Willow looked at him in confusion.

“Don’t ask. Long story. But still, kind of a problem because, I don’t know about you, but one question about chemistry and he’s going to know I don’t know anything about it other than how to set a bomb to blow up a school.”

Buffy looked singularly untroubled. “Xander, don’t worry about it. He didn’t ask me a single question about that night. It was just one dance.” She smiled that giggly, girlish smile again. “But he is cute, isn’t he?”

“Very,” Willow assured her. “So, there’s sparkage?”

“Maybe a little,” she admitted. “But I told him that you had just gotten back to town and tonight was your night.” 

Willow looked upset. “Buffy, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Buffy assured her, then her eyes crinkled in a mischievous smile. “Besides, he asked for my phone number.” She lifted her glass. “Welcome back, Willow.”

Tara echoed the sentiment and Xander lifted his own glass in salute to Willow, who beamed back at them happily.

Swallowing the last of his beer, he thought to himself that it was nice to see Buffy so lighthearted again. Since Glory first showed in town, there hadn’t been much time off, especially for Buffy and very little in the way of carefree fun. And it was good to see her interested in a guy, even casually. She’d taken Riley’s leaving hard and she hadn’t seemed interested at all in dating since he left. Ben seemed like an ok guy. How bad could he be, working at a hospital and all?

Oh, who was he kidding? A guy Buffy was attracted to? Based on her track record, they should probably just start investigating Ben right now and get it over with.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike stirred as Xander moved out from under his arm, leaning across the bed and slapping the alarm clock off. He let out a protesting sound, even as he stretched and sat up. “Gotta go to work,” he said around a yawn.

Spike didn’t make one of his typical complaints about the hour or the fact that Xander was leaving. Instead, he asked: “Get anythin’ useful out of the little witch last night?” 

Xander shook his head in disbelief. Only Spike would assume a welcome home party included interrogations. “Yes,” he admitted. “You were right all along, Spike. She’s planning on taking over the world and Glory is just her puppet. She’s convinced Buffy to go along with her evil plan, so we’re all doomed.” He leaned down to kiss Spike. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic. Can I kill her now?”

“Sorry. Can’t let you.” Xander smirked, unable to resist. “Besides, we have a real problem.”

Spike opened one eye blearily. “What?”

“Buffy’s got a new boyfriend.”

“Oh bloody hell.” 

Xander laughed as Spike pulled a pillow firmly over his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Willow spent the morning going to classes with Tara and the afternoon at the Magic Box, oohing and ahhing over the shop, the training room, and everything that she’d only heard about until now.

“Giles, this is great! I mean, I’ve pictured it in my head, but this is so much better than I imagined.”

“Well, it-it suits the purpose,” Giles said, obviously pleased. “Xander was an enormous help with setting it up, and Tara, of course, has been invaluable as my assistant.”

Tara blushed, smiling at him gratefully. 

“Oh, please. If this gets any more sickeningly sweet, I’m going to have to leave.” Ethan’s voice drifted down from the book loft. 

Willow looked up, a frown crossing her face, then glanced at Giles and bit back what she had been about to say. Xander spoke up to fill the awkward silence.

“Don’t worry about Ethan,” he told Willow. “It’s just that he’s not happy unless he’s annoying someone.”

“Is it working?”

“Sorry, Ethan, we’re still all sweetness and light. Keep trying.” Xander grinned at Willow. “Nothing makes him crazier than to think he’s not getting to you,” he said in a tone he knew perfectly well was just loud enough to carry up to the book loft.

“Think of him as a male version of Cordelia,” Buffy told Willow, smiling at Giles.

“Heaven forbid,” Giles muttered.

“Anyway,” Buffy continued, abandoning the subject. “Did I tell you? There’s a Spring Break party at my old dorm tomorrow. What do you say?”

“Shouldn’t we be researching, hitting the books, working on the whole stopping Glory thing?” Willow asked hesitantly.

“Actually, we’ve pretty much tapped out my books,” Giles admitted. “Unless you can come up with something in the magical texts, I’m afraid we’re at a dead end.”

“And what you’ll need after a hard day of research is a party,” Buffy pointed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dorm’s common area had been transformed into a facsimile of a Hawaiian beach, with tiki torches, paper leis and folding beach chairs. Dipping a glass full of punch out of the giant clamshell serving as a punch bowl, Xander looked around in bemusement at the plethora of Hawaiian shirts, some of which he was convinced he’d once owned, before he’d gotten rid of all his tacky bright-colored clothes and learned how to dress better. Who knew his old clothes would have a second life at college parties?

Buffy was circulating, chatting with her former dorm-mates, obviously pleased that they had missed her. Willow and Tara were dancing together and Xander had spent the time talking to a couple of people he knew from Buffy’s old dorm. The one bad thing about having Willow back in town was that his life was being divided into separate groups again. 

Which was as much Spike’s fault as Willow’s, but still… It would have been fun if Spike had come to the party. He could almost hear his lover’s sarcastic voice in his ear, commenting on everything from the music to the people doing the limbo. 

Willow and Tara were threading their way towards him from the dance floor and Xander broke off his conversation with Eddie, moving to intercept them.

“I heard that Warren was here. Is Warren here?”

Xander blinked down in surprise at the woman who’d spoken and now stood blocking his way and smiling up at him hopefully. “Um, Warren who?” he asked.

“He’s… Warren. And he’s looking for me. He lost me,” she said. She turned precisely and moved off. Xander stared after her, seeing her approach another group and ask the same question.

“It’s that girl again,” Tara said, arriving at his side. “Is she still looking for Warren? Willow and I saw her earlier today. It’s weird, she’s been looking for him all day.”

“There’s something strange about her,” Willow agreed. 

Xander couldn’t agree more, finding himself almost hypnotized as he watched the woman methodically work her way through the crowd.

The woman was sort of creepily perfect. Perfectly smooth hair, gleamingly white teeth in her over-broad smile. Yeah, she had the kind of figure people drooled over, but there was something almost…mechanical about her. The way she moved, the way she spoke, the preciseness of her gestures, somehow they were all just subtly off somehow, even if he couldn’t have said why.

He opened his mouth to comment, then just found himself staring slack jawed as the woman picked up a big guy wearing a purple and green Hawaiian shirt and hold him over her head as easily as if he weighed nothing. The room went quiet as people stared in shock and her voice was clearly audible over the music. “That would be wrong. You are not my boyfriend!” she said, then tossed the man through the windows as casually as if he had been one of the beach balls scattered around the room. 

Xander set down his drink and pushed his way through the motionless crowd of shocked partygoers, reaching the shattered window and looking out. To his relief, he saw the guy climbing slowly to his feet. His face was cut from the broken glass, but he didn’t appear to be seriously hurt, turning to stare back inside at the woman.

“Jesus, bitch! ou threw me through the window.”

“You do not make those suggestions to me,” she scolded him. I have a boyfriend. Warren is my boyfriend.”

“You know what? Fuck you and your Warren.” The guy stalked off, limping slightly and Xander couldn’t help smiling. Good choice. No way was that guy going to be able to recover from the assault to his manhood and rejoin the party. Tactical retreat was the only way to handle the situation. 

The woman turned to face the staring crowd. “No one but Warren can touch me.”

There seemed to be a general consensus that the crazy woman should be left alone. Xander was relieved to see the crowd - especially the men, he noted in amusement - back away from her.

Except Buffy, of course, who had moved to block the woman from leaving.

“Excuse me. Hi. Um, maybe you and I could talk. You know, 'cause, throwing Brad through a window.., ok, I know he’s like a huge jerk once he’s his third beer, but you know, generally speaking…” she began.

The woman interrupted her. “Do you know my boyfriend?”

Buffy frowned. “Okay. I think you need to take a second and stop looking for your boyfriend.”

Before anyone could blink, the woman grabbed her and threw her backwards, sending her sailing across the room to crash against the wall. Which definitely clinched the, not quite human status of the weird girl.

The woman looked down at Buffy, who was lying on the floor, holding her left shoulder. “I have to find him. If I hurt you just now, I’m sorry. And I hope that your boyfriend will take good care of you.”

Buffy had the sense to stay down as the woman simply turned and walked off, the crowd moving away from her to leave a clear space for her exit. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They gathered in the second floor tv lounge, Buffy pacing and rubbing her shoulder but assuring them she wasn’t seriously hurt. She was still rubbing at her shoulder and wincing slightly, but seemed to be able to move her arm. 

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve had it with super-strong little women who aren’t me,” she complained. 

Xander looked at Willow and Tara helplessly. There didn’t seem to be much to say to that. ‘Sorry you got your ass kicked by something else that looks just like a Slayer’ was probably not going to go over well. Fortunately, Buffy kept talking.

“So, what do you guys think she is? I mean, this may sound nuts, but I kinda got the impression that she was a…”

“Robot,” Tara said when Buffy hesitated.

Willow and Xander both nodded. 

“Oh yeah, robot.”

“Yeah, I was gonna say robot,” Buffy agreed. “What do you think she wants?”

“Warren, whoever that is,” Tara said.

“It’s gotta be the guy that built her,” Xander said.

Willow tapped her fingers on the table, looking like she was already thinking of computer searches she could be running. “It’s an unusual name. There’s hardly any except ... Warren Beatty and, you know, President Harding. It-it’s probably not either of them,” she said, seeing the looks she was getting from everyone.

“Will, can you track down this guy with only a first name?” Buffy asked. She gave Willow a smile. “Have I mentioned how much we’ve missed your computer skills? And other things, of course. But Giles is just as hopeless as ever, and none of the rest of us are even half as good as you.”

Willow smiled, obviously pleased. “Thanks, it’s nice to be missed. To answer your question, given enough time, I might be able to. I can get a list of the Sunnydale students named Warren tonight, but ... then we’ll have to call them or go to their dorms, so we probably can’t start narrowing it down till tomorrow.

“She could do a lot of damage by then,” Buffy said, still rubbing at her shoulder absentmindedly.

“She was looking for this Warren guy, but it didn’t sound like she wanted to hurt him,” Xander said. “She said he’s her boyfriend. I mean, I feel bad for the guy who got thrown through the window and all, but he was drunk and obviously propositioned her. What are the chances of that happening again?”

He looked around at the circle of women looking back at him, all wearing identical looks of complete disillusionment. “Right. Men are evil. We should find her as soon as possible.”

“Darn tootin’ they’re evil,” Willow told him, giving him a mischievous smile.

“She’s got that sweet helpless look that men seem to go completely brainless over,” Buffy said. “Hopefully, she won’t have to defend herself too often. She kind of went a little overboard.”

“My laptop’s at Tara’s,” Willow said. “How about I meet you at the Magic Box in the morning with a list of suspects.”

“Sounds like a plan. I should head home anyway. Spike is babysitting Dawn and I should get home before mom gets back from her date.” Buffy got to her feet. “Spike said something about wanting to meet mom’s date. It didn’t sound pretty. I should be there to keep the violence down.” She looked at Xander. “Come with me? You can take Spike home. Otherwise, he’ll just lurk in the bushes until mom gets home with her date. And why go there?”

“Yeah, I’ll come ride herd on him, just in case your mom doesn’t want her date killed,” Xander said, shrugging into his coat.

Tara giggled. “He’s so cute when he gets all overprotective over Joyce.”

“Mom says Brian’s a really nice, normal guy. He’s not ready to meet Spike.” Buffy frowned, obviously remembering some of her mother’s other ‘nice, normal guys’. “We’ll save Spike until we see if there’s going to be a second date. They can meet when Brian’s thinking about getting handsy with mom.”

“Sure we can afford to wait until their second date?” Xander asked with a grin.

“Oh, please, they’re old. They won’t do anything but shake hands at the door,” Buffy said with complete confidence.

Willow was watching the exchange with startled eyes but didn’t say anything. Tara linked her arm with Willow’s and steered her towards the door, glancing back to give Xander a wink as she did. 

He smiled. He wasn’t sure if Buffy had spoken as she had deliberately for Willow’s sake, but it sure looked like Tara was going to try and change Willow’s mind about Spike.

Xander was glad that she’d overheard the exchange. Willow had accepted that Spike was part of Xander’s life, but only reluctantly and she still had strong reservations - which she mostly kept to herself these days. It was good that she had a chance to see how thoroughly Buffy and Tara had accepted the vampire as an integral part of the group.


	29. Chapter 29

The Court was mostly full when Spike returned from doing a sweep of his Territory, the minions straggling in from their night’s activities. As always, the main floor was noisy, the minions generally spent the last waning hour before dawn bragging to each other about their night’s activities. Like humans in a bar towards the end of the night, their feats obtained the status of legend in the retelling: each insisting they had had the most dangerous fight, the best kill. the blood of the sweetest virgin in town. 

Sometimes he missed the company of older vampires, of his family in particular with a fierce longing that surprised and embarrassed him. He missed the years when, young and reckless, he had looked forward to nothing more than bringing his triumphs home to impress the elders of his clan, like the night he’d shared the news of killing his first Slayer - veins still tingling from his first taste of Slayer’s blood, Drusilla proud and loving, her slender body wrapped around his, sharing the taste of his kill, her agile tongue darting inside his mouth to taste the blood still staining his lips and teeth. Even Darla had been impressed for once by his kill of the Chinese Slayer. Hell of a night that had been, he thought now. The panic and chaos in the streets like the headiest wine, drunk on Slayer’s blood and victory, basking in Dru’s undivided attention and admiration. 

“Master Spike?”

It was Anthony, two minions in tow, who’d interrupted his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“These two saw something tonight that I thought you should know about.”

The two minions were obviously torn between pride and fear. Pride that Anthony had thought the news they’d brought the Lieutenant was important enough for them to give Spike their account directly, and fear that Spike wouldn’t think their information was important enough to have bothered him. Spike hid a smirk. He liked the minions being afraid of him. That was how it should be. Screw the old days.

“Four bodies in the woods on the edge of town, Master Spike,” the taller one said, having been surreptitiously pushed forward by his short, skinny partner. Spike sighed inaudibly. What was it about minions turned in the 70’s - the 1970’s - that they clung to the eye-searing polyester shirts they’d worn as humans?

“Humans?” he asked impatiently.

“Yes, Master Spike. We were hunting in the woods east of town when we smelled the blood. The bodies were in armor and they carried swords. The real deal, it looked like, not movie props or recent knock-offs. From the position of the bodies, they didn’t kill each other, it looked like something else killed them.

The shorter one spoke up for the first time. “They had a mark,” he gestured towards the center of his own forehead. “A tattoo. A symbol of some kind.” He hesitantly proffered a piece of paper. Spike took it and frowned down at the sketch, surprised by the precise detail of the drawing. The symbol wasn’t anything he recognized. A central shield with lines radiating out that suggested wings. He looked up, meeting the shorter minion’s eyes. “You draw this?”

“Yes, Master Spike.”

“What’s your name?”

“Donald.” The minion bobbed his head nervously. Like many minions in their first decade, he obviously didn’t bathe frequently. His short-cropped hair was brown under the dirt and his plaid shirt was an embarrassment to vamps everywhere, but the sketch was the important thing. Angelus couldn’t have done a better job of it. 

“Good work, both of you,” he said casually, knowing that Anthony would have noted his asking the minion his name and would pass the word on to his other Lieutenants that Donald was worth keeping an eye on. 

He dismissed the two minions and signaled Anthony to stay. He studied the drawing for a moment longer, then looked at his Lieutenant. “They’re called the Knights of Byzantium. I want to know if there are any more of these gits in town and, if so, how many. Pass the word. I want everyone out tomorrow night in a search pattern. Organize it so we don’t miss anything. Comb the entire town and the outskirts for at least 20 miles around. I want reports by dawn tomorrow. Anyone finds them, they stay back and watch only. I want a solid estimate of their numbers but I do not want these people to know they’re being watched - not yet. Clear?”

“Understood, Master Spike.”

Spike nodded dismissal, looking down once more at the sketch in his hand. Up to a thousand Knights, they’d claimed. He doubted it was anything but bragging, but he didn’t want to take the risk. If there were that many of them, and they found out the Key was human, they could simply slaughter everyone in town in hopes of taking out the Key. He was probably overreacting, the Knights were human after all and few humans had the stomach for mass slaughter, but these were fanatics and he didn’t want to take any chances. The only humans he had ever cared about were all in this town.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“‘m not getting up in the middle of the day to talk about a bloody robot. The Slayer can handle it,” Spike said indifferently, blinking up at him with bleary eyes.

“Oh, come on,” Xander wheedled. “It’ll be fun.”

Spike gave him a look. “Not fighting a sexbot. It’s undignified.” He leered. “You need someone to shag her, give me a call.”

Xander glared at him. “Not shagging anyone but me, vampire mine. Got it?”

“That an offer?” Spike asked.

“That was a threat. I know they get you all hot and bothered…”

Spike just gave him that low, sexy chuckle. The one that always made him forget whatever it was they’d been talking about and sent a shiver down his spine and a twitch of interest to his cock. Tempting as it was to lie back down, he had promised to meet the others at the magic shop this morning. 

“Sure you won’t change your mind?” he asked.

Spike shook his head, looking a little less sleepy, and Xander smiled down at him. He loved the way Spike looked in the mornings, sleep rumpled, hair sticking up wildly, and he loved knowing he was the only one who got to see Spike this way. 

“Somethin’s killin’ the Knights of Byzantium.”

“What?” Xander snapped his attention back to what Spike was saying.

“Couple minions stumbled over four bodies last night. I’m guessing Glory took ‘em out.” Spike told him what the minions had reported, showing him the little sketch of the tattoo which Xander looked at curiously.

“So much for possible reinforcements against Glory,” he said, disappointed. Ever since Buffy and Giles said that there might be a whole army of the Knights, he’d been toying with the idea of trying to form an alliance, despite what Buffy had said about not being able to work with them. They had a common enemy, after all, and Buffy wasn’t the most diplomatic person on the planet. Plus, it had sounded like she’d been dealing with a foot soldier, not someone with any authority to make deals. He sighed. If the bodies had been left where they fell, that probably meant that there was only a handful of the Knights after all. No army he’d ever heard of left the bodies of comrades behind if there were any survivors capable of burying them.

“Got the Court organized to look for ‘em tomorrow night,” Spike said casually. “We’ll know if there’s more of them by this time tomorrow.”

Xander nodded. “Good idea.” The Court had the manpower to do an extensive search. If there were more of the Knights in town, then they could figure out what to do about them. Turning over ideas in his head, he bent down to kiss Spike absently. “See you later.”

“Leave the robot to Buffy, got it?” Spike told him. “Let her deal with it.”

“Yes, mom,” he sighed.

He smiled as Spike raised two fingers in an obscene gesture before sliding back under the covers to go back to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Willow arrived at the Magic Box, excitedly waving a piece of paper. “I found him! Or, at least someone who seems like a good candidate,” she allowed. “Warren Mears. He went to Sunnydale with us for a semester, then transferred to the tech college in Dutton. So, I figured, tech school, robot… Did I mention there aren’t that many Warrens around?”

“Sounds like our guy. I’ll go talk to him.” Buffy had already explained the situation to Giles before Xander arrived and they’d just been waiting for Willow and Tara to get there with their computer smarts. Other than being intrigued, Giles hadn’t had much to offer, pointing out that the Watchers Council had inexplicably failed to provide him with a single reference book on robots. 

Giles frowned. “That may not be wise, Buffy,” he said slowly. “We don’t know what you would be walking into. We have no idea what his motive is for building this thing.”

Ok, so Buffy had obviously not described the robot to Giles.

Tara looked surprised. “Um ... Don’t you think she’s just…” she trailed off, raising her eyebrows suggestively. 

Willow had an identical expression on her face. “Yeah ... She’s just sort of a…” 

“She’s a sexbot,” Xander said bluntly, enjoying the look on Giles’ face.

“Really, Ripper, you should have figured that out for yourself. After all, we were about their age when…”

Giles interrupted hurriedly. “Right. I see your point. Still, best to be on guard,” he said briskly.

“It’s kind of refreshing, actually. Dealing with something straightforward like a psychotic robot,” Buffy said cheerfully, getting to her feet.

“I’ve missed this,” Willow said. “Sitting around together, researching the evil creature of the week. Ok, so we didn’t actually open any books and we’ve never had to deal with a sexbot before…”

“Sure we have,” Xander interrupted her with a grin. “We just never tried to take them down. Don’t you remember the Cordettes?”

Buffy laughed. “You know, Cordelia would kill you if she heard you call her lackeys that.”

“Like I would ever be stupid enough to say that to her face,” Xander pointed out. His phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket. “Hello?”

“Xander? It’s Mr. Olsen. Sorry to bother you, are you by any chance free this morning?”

“Yeah, I’m good. What’s up?”

“You remember my wife volunteers at the hospital?”

Xander felt his heart lurch. “Have there been more deaths?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw everyone stiffen and turn towards him.

“No, nothing of the kind. The mental ward has been filling up again, but there’s one patient there with a very strange tattoo on his forehead. It may be one of the Knights of Byzantium.”

“In the mental ward?” he asked, surprised.

“Yes, I was intending to go down there and talk to him. I wondered if you or Mr. Giles might like to come along.”

“Meet you there in about 20 minutes?” Xander suggested. “I’m at the magic shop now, I’ll see if Giles wants to come.”

He hung up and found everyone still staring at him with varying degrees of concern. “That was Mr. Olsen. There’s a guy in the hospital crazy wing that he thinks might be one of the Knights of Byzantium. Giles, you up for checking it out?”

“It’s certainly worth a try, although it’s doubtful he’ll be able to tell us anything useful.”

“We could go too,” Willow offered.

“Best to keep the numbers down, I suspect,” Giles told her. “It is a closed wing in a hospital, after all. Not something they’re happy with too many people wandering about in.” Seeing her disappointed face, he added: “But if you and Tara wouldn’t mind tending the shop, we should only be gone for about an hour.”

“Of course, Mr. Giles,” Tara assured him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The mental ward at the hospital wasn’t any less disturbing this time. Which was weird, considering that this time at least all the patients were alive. But they were pity-inducing wrecks, staring hollow-eyed at things no one else could see, muttering restlessly, their grey faces and wild eyes reflecting a lack of stability, rather than a lack of care.

Mrs. Olsen was waiting for them at the entrance to the wing, easily getting them through security with a glib story about looking for a missing relative. From the hopeful expression on the nurse’s face, it was clear that the hospital would be really happy to have any of the patients claimed by relatives.

Mrs. Olsen led them to the same room where they had examined the corpses only a few weeks ago and Xander was relieved to see that it wasn’t Ben on duty inside the room. He didn’t think they could come up with a reasonable explanation for being here a second time. The bodies on the beds weren’t still this time. Instead, they were stirring restlessly, pulling at the leather restraints that limited their movements. 

The Knight lay on the third bed. Under other circumstances, he would have been a good looking man: dark hair and eyes, darkly tanned skin, and a lean muscular body. The large tattoo on his forehead matched the sketch Spike had shown him. Back in the hospital lobby, he’d told Giles and Mr. Olsen about the dead Knights and Spike directing the Court to search for more of them tonight.

Mrs. Olsen gently patted the man’s hand to get his attention. “I’ve brought some visitors,” she said, her voice projecting nothing but soothing calm despite the pity in her eyes. “Do you mind if they talk to you for a minute?”

The man seemed aware of her presence on some level, turning his eyes from the ceiling to look at her. “It won't stick,” he complained. “The birds have been pecking too hard.”

“That doesn’t bode well,” Xander muttered.

Giles had been examining the tattoo on the man’s forehead but stepped back into the man’s field of vision. “What’s your name?” he asked gently.

“They find you. They find you no matter where you hide,” the man said, then suddenly twisted wildly in his restraints. “It hurts!” he sobbed. “Make it stop. Please!”

Giles exchanged a grim look with Xander, then leaned a little closer to the Knight. “Can you tell us where your friends are?” he asked, as soothingly as if he was reassuring a small child. “We can bring them to see you, if you’d like. But we don’t know where they are.”

“It’s poisoned. It, it has to be checked, though.”

Mrs. Olsen said apologetically. “I’m afraid you won’t be able to get anything sensible out of him. Or any of the others. It’s not like a normal mental illness. None of them seem able to connect with anyone at all, even for brief periods.” As she spoke, her hands were gently straightening the Knight’s blankets, trying to straighten the covers that had been disturbed by his restless movements. “They aren’t responding to any of the usual medications. It’s like..,” her voice broke and Mr. Olsen moved quickly to put an arm around her in support, “like they’re trapped inside their minds, and their minds have become a terrible, frightening place for them. Many of them talk about being dirty.” She leaned her head tiredly against her husband. “Nothing we do seems to help them at all.”

Looking around the room, Xander swallowed hard. The people in the room were just average schmoes. Young, old, attractive, plain, they seemed to have nothing in common other than the fact that they had just been ordinary people once. Ordinary people who had had the misfortune to encounter Glory. 

“Let’s go,” he said quietly. “We aren’t going to learn anything by harassing this poor guy.” 

Mr. Olsen and Giles nodded, and Mrs. Olsen led them back outside, past security, and out into the lobby. 

Xander took a deep breath, trying to get the taste of despair and helpless suffering out of his lungs. “We’ve got to find some way to stop Glory,” he said. “She’s killing these people just as much as if she was stabbing them in the heart.”

“I agree,” Giles said quietly, looking almost unbearably tired. “I just don’t know how we can stand against her. Neither Buffy nor Spike is strong enough. None of us are.”

“We’ve got to think of something,” Xander said. 

“Yes, we do,” Mr. Olsen said. “It’s time for desperate measures.” He gave a wry, half-smile and dropped a kiss into Mrs. Olsen’s hair. “However, that’s as far as my thinking goes at the moment.”

“Well, we’ve got a chaos mage and a Master Vampire on our team,” Xander pointed out. “They’re both outside the box kind of guys. Maybe they can come up with something just insane enough to work.”

Giles looked appalled, opening his mouth, but then closed it with a sigh and didn’t say anything, which told Xander that, against his better judgment, Giles was prepared to do whatever it took, even if it meant unleashing Ethan and Spike.

“That may be what it takes to stop her,” Mrs. Olsen said, unexpectedly. “As for the demons in town, we are conservative by nature, perhaps too much so. We have always favored concealment over action, afraid to risk being exposed to the population at large.” She squared her shoulders, meeting her husband’s eyes in a long, steady look. “I think we need to remind some of our people that there are worse things than having our true nature revealed.” She looked at Giles and Xander and smiled. “Perhaps some of us can come up with crazy ideas to add to the mix.”

“Kind of a poetic justice there,” Xander said with a grin. “Have I ever told you two how glad I am that we met?”

“Not nearly often enough, young man,” Mr. Olsen said severely, then let his eyes do the green and gold sparkly thing that Xander loved to see. “However, as we have been equally remiss in the exact same area, we’ll let it pass.”

“So, let’s go back to our respective groups and tell them to stop being rational,” Giles said. Underneath the gloomy tone was a hint of something in his eyes that Xander only ever remembered seeing on the night Giles had been stoned on band candy. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Robot crisis is over,” Buffy told reported, as they returned to the shop. 

“Oh, well done,” Giles said, pleased. “Are you alright?” he asked, seeing Buffy favoring her right leg slightly.

“Fine, she got a couple good shots in is all.”

“But you were able to defeat her?”

“Yep.” Buffy sighed. “Ok, she was busily kicking my ass and her batteries ran down, but, hey, I was the one who ended up still standing, so that means I beat her, right?”

“Absolutely,” Willow said stoutly. “So what if it was only because Warren had given her sufficient back up battery power…” She stopped abruptly, looking embarrassed. “I’m sure you would have regrouped anyway,” she finished brightly. “I can’t believe that Warren sicced her on you.”

“I thought I mentioned the part where he was a real creep,” Buffy reminded her.

“Well, he built a sex-bot. I think creep thing kinda goes without saying,” Xander pointed out.

“No, I mean, he made this perfect girlfriend-bot, then decided she was so perfect she was boring, then he just walked off and left her without one word of explanation.”

Xander was puzzled. “Buffy, she’s a robot. Why would he need to explain anything to her?”

“She loved him. And he just left her without explaining anything. She just sat there and waited for him to come back before finally going to look for him.” Buffy looked depressed. “Ok, I’m probably getting a bit transfer-y about this, aren’t I?”

“Ya think?” Buffy scowled at him and Xander changed the subject quickly. “What happened to her?”

She sighed. “Her batteries ran down and she couldn’t move, but she was still talking and, I know it sounds crazy, but I started to feel sorry for her.” 

“Actually, I meant, after her batteries ran down?”

“She’s in the basement. I figured we could melt her down or something.”

Xander looked at Giles and saw he was thinking the same thing. “How good a fighter was she?”

Buffy looked puzzled, then shrugged. “She was strong but pretty much limited to throwing and pushing. Warran obviously didn’t program in self-defense skills. Creep.”

“Can we use her against Glory?” 

“Maybe, if we convince her Glory is Warren’s new girlfriend.” Buffy shrugged. “She wouldn’t last long.”

“Who cares? I’d rather Glory beat up a robot than one of us. Maybe we can re-program her with some fighting skills and a serious hatred for Glory.” Buffy looked thoughtful and Xander added hastily: “And by ‘we’, I obviously mean anyone but me. ‘Cause re-programming a computer is not on my list of job skills, much less a robot.”

“Mine either. But Willow was really intrigued with the Ted robot. Maybe she can give re-programming April a try.” Buffy switched her gaze to Giles. “Are you ok with this?”

“Yes. If she’s stronger than you, maybe she’s strong enough to do some damage to Glory.”

“I don’t think she’s that much stronger than me,” Buffy muttered crossly, obviously hurt that they would think a sex-bot could beat her in a fight. “Willow, are you game?”

“You bet. I mean, you didn’t let me play with the Ted-bot…” she made a face. “And that came out a bit differently than I meant it to. I mean, I won’t know until I look inside her if there’s anything I can do, but it’s always easier to reverse engineer than to invent something, so probably I can get her up and running again.”

“Just make sure you re-program her so she doesn’t keep trailing around after Warren like a psychotic love-sick puppy,” Buffy sighed.


	30. Chapter 30

“Niblet,” Spike greeted as he entered the magic shop. A quick look around confirmed that the shop was empty except for Dawn, who was doing her homework at the research table. It was after sunset and the shop was closed and Spike felt a shaft of concern go through him - wondering if they were still dealing with the robot and Xander had thrown himself into the middle of things despite his promise not to.

“Where is everyone?” he asked. 

“Downstairs, looking at the robot,” Dawn told him. “Buffy said I couldn’t watch until I finished my algebra homework.”

Hiding his relief, he pulled up a chair next to Dawn, spinning it around and straddling it, resting his arms comfortably on the wooden back and looked at the pages covered with scribbled problems curiously. “Can’t help you with that, luv. In my day, a bloke was pretty well off if he could add and subtract without using his fingers.” With careful casualness, he added, “Take it your sister was able to stop the robot from throwing any more people through windows, eh? Good on her. But why bring it back here?”

“Xander thinks they might be able to reprogram it to fight Glory,” Dawn told him, pushing the math book aside with a frustrated gesture.

Spike lifted an eyebrow. “A sexbot fighting a hellgod. That might be worth payin’ money for.” At Dawn’s look, he protested: “What? A good cat fight’s always worth the price of admission.” He smirked at her. “Can see why the witch might be interested, but what’s your sister doing down there? Decided to switch teams now her toy soldier’s left town?”

“No. And eeuw. Because it’s a robot, not because of the switching teams thing,” Dawn explained hastily. “Willow and Tara are cute together.”

“Glinda’s too good for her,” he said shortly.

Dawn frowned at him in a look copied from her mother. “Why can’t you even try and get along with Willow? What happened between her and Xander was almost three years ago and she’s really changed.” Her tone suggested that those three years were unimaginable stretches of time.

“Don’t care if it’s been 300 years, she hurt Xander. She’s alive because Xander didn’t want me to kill her. That’s more than she deserves. Not going to play nice with her.” Spike told her. It still rankled, and always would, that he hadn’t been able to exercise his rights as a Master Vampire to take vengeance against someone who’d harmed his Claimed. Having the witch back in town was rubbing salt in the wound every time he saw her. He listened carefully for a moment, confirming that everyone else was still down in the basement, then looked at Dawn seriously and said quietly: “Don’t you trust her either, Dawn. You be careful what you say around her. Don’t want her knowing you’re anythin’ but the Slayer’s little sister.”

“Spike, she already knows.”

“What?” He was going to fucking kill the Slayer.

“Well, duh. She’s Buffy’s best friend and is helping us try and figure out how to stop Glory. Kind of needs to know all the facts.” Dawn was looking at him with fond exasperation, like he was the one being unreasonable.

“Dawn, she’s a witch. She went of her trolley because she got power hungry. She used magic against Xander who she’s known since they were in nappies together. What makes you think she won’t turn on you?” 

“She won’t. Xander’s forgiven her,” Dawn pointed out patiently, as if he didn’t already know.

“Xander’s soft that way. Love him, but he forgives too bloody many people for too many things.” 

“Gee, thanks. Remind me not to forgive you the next time you use up all the hot water,” Xander said, emerging from the steps to the basement.

Knowing it was a lost cause, especially since the secret was already out, Spike sat back and looked over his shoulder at Xander. “Only use up the hot water when you’re in there with me,” Spike pointed out. “Remember two nights ago - ” 

Xander’s hand covered his mouth, cutting off the rest of the sentence. “Dawn does not need to hear about that.”

“Yes, she does,” Dawn said eagerly.

“No, you don’t. Because Xander doesn’t want to die horribly and Spike will be leaving in a dustpan if either of them tries corrupting my little sister with sordid sex tales,” Buffy said pleasantly, walking past on her way to Giles’ office.

Dawn gave her most put-upon sigh. “You never let me hear the good stuff.”

“Tell you what,” Spike said comfortingly. “I’ll videotape the good stuff and save it for you for when you’re older.”

“Yeah, that’ll happen,” Xander agreed sarcastically. “Sorry, Dawn, but there will be no Spike & Xander peep shows. Ever,” he told Spike sternly, though his eyes were sparkling with laughter.

Spike slid his arm around Xander’s waist as his boy leaned a hip against his shoulder. “Reprogramming the robot?” he asked, still amused by the idea.

“Worth a shot. Plus, who cares if she gets pulled apart. Willow’s poking around trying to see if she can open it up. Oh, Mr. Olsen called. One of the Knights of Byzantium got brain sucked by Glory. He’s at the hospital but we couldn’t get anything out of him.”

“Tough week for that lot,” Spike commented.

“What do you mean?” Dawn asked, looking between them. 

“Four dead, one a gibbering idiot,” Spike told her.

“Dawn, aren’t you supposed to be doing homework?” Buffy said as she walked back into the room. “Spike, she doesn’t need to hear about this. And they’re mentally ill, not gibbering idiots.”

“Same thing. And why shouldn’t she know what’s happening? Concerns her more than any of us.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling her,” Dawn chimed in. At Buffy’s look, she sighed, “but I’m just doing my algebra. Go ahead and pretend I’m not here. You always do.” She pulled the book closer to her again and picked up her pencil.

Spike winked at her. ‘Tell you later,” he said, too quietly for Buffy to hear. Dawn smiled conspiratorially at him then bent conscientiously over her book. 

“I’m off,” he announced, standing up. He’d only stopped by to make sure that Xander wasn’t getting involved in the fight with the robot. “Going to have a look around for the Knights myself. Back at dawn, luv,” he told Xander.

“Thanks, Spike. Let us know what you find,” Buffy said. “Because we so don’t need more of those nuts wandering around loose.”

Spike was about to answer flippantly, but saw the way her worried gaze lingered on Dawn and just nodded in agreement. Humans or not, he’d kill them all before letting them touch Dawn. He kissed Xander, then strode out of the shop. 

Once outside, he didn’t head out on search. Instead, he circled the block and returned to the shop, moving with quiet stealth to outside the front windows and stretched out his senses. Buffy was sitting at the table, helping Dawn with her algebra. Xander had also remained upstairs and, from the sound of it, was prowling around checking for anything that needed repairing. Rupert was apparently off somewhere, because there had been no whisper of his presence in the shop. From inside, he’d been able to hear the witch muttering to herself in the basement. For a wonder, Glinda hadn’t been by her side.

Which meant she was downstairs alone. 

Moving with silent steps, Spike circled the building and dropped down into the sewers from the alley behind the shop. Climbing up into the shop from the tunnels below, he grinned ferally as he punched in the code on the combination lock Xander had installed. Xander had worried about the tunnel access into the shop but wanted to leave it open for Spike and as an emergency retreat, if they ever needed one. His solution had been to install a heavy metal gate over the entrance with a lock that only they knew the combination to. 

The gate swung open soundlessly, moving on well-oiled hinges, and Spike entered the shop’s basement. The witch was bent over a table, looking like a body snatcher from the middle ages doing a bit of clandestine dissection. The robot was more real-looking than Spike had thought it would be. It smelled of plastic and electricity but, except for the artificial stiffness of the body as it lay on the table, it looked like the real thing: a young, sweet looking girl, dark hair falling around its shoulders as it lay with open eyes staring at the ceiling.

He moved to a few feet behind her and planted his feet, folding his arms over his chest. “Need to talk, witch,” he said, not loudly.

The redhead jumped at the sound of his voice, spinning around, and for a moment her eyes widened with fear. Then she regained her composure and let out a long breath. “Spike. You startled me.”

“Meant to.”

With careful precision, she set down the screwdriver she’d been holding in a white-knuckled grip and rose slowly from her chair, facing him squarely. “Is this about Xander?” she asked.

“Already had that talk. Not planning on repeating myself.”

Her hand rose and rubbed at her throat absently. “Trust me. I still remember what you said.”

“Good, ’cause we’re going to have the same talk about Dawn.”

Her surprise showed. “Dawn? What about her?”

“Not a lot of humans I care about. Dawn’s one of the few. Hurt her and I’ll kill you. You get one warning and that was it. We clear?”

“Umm, yeah. Really clear. Spike, I would never hurt Dawn.”

“Once upon a time, you didn’t think you were hurting Xander when you used magic on him. Not using your definitions.”

“You’re right. I hurt Xander and I am grateful every day that he has forgiven me.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears as she spoke. “I know how lucky I am. A lot of people wouldn’t have forgiven me, but Xander’s…. Xander. In England, when it got hard, when I would be tempted to do something with magic because it was easy and not because it was necessary, I just had to remember the look on his face when he found out about the memory spell. He’s a big part of the reason that I’m still me. I’m not going to risk losing his friendship ever again.”

Spike nodded, acknowledging her words. He could read the truth in them - or at least that she believed they were true. He didn’t know how well she’d handle a crisis, but they could only wait and see. He done what he could without simply snapping her neck, and Xander didn’t see her mere presence in town as a threat justifying that.

“Long as we understand each other.”

“We do.” She turned back to the table and Spike had to give her points for having the nerve to turn her back on him. Stupid, really, but gutsy. Having given his warning, he turned to leave, as silently as he came.

“Spike?” 

He turned to see the witch looking at him. 

“If I do anything to harm Xander or Dawn, or anyone else here, I hope you kill me before I do it, not after.” Her eyes met his unflinchingly for a long moment before she turned her head back to the robot on the table.

Surprised by her declaration, he stared at the back of her head for a long time before slowly turning to leave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike slid under the covers, wrapping himself around Xander’s warm body as he spooned up behind him. Long accustomed to Spike’s early morning returns, he usually slept through them, but this time he stirred sleepily. “Spike?”

“Expectin’ someone else?” Spike purred into his ear.

He grinned as the sarcastic response was cut off by a yawn. Then Xander half turned in his arms to look at him. “Are there more of them in town?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Spike admitted. “’Bout thirty of them encamped on the edge of town. Got the whole deal: tents, horses, stacks of armor.”

“Hmmm. I’ll tell Buffy tomorrow,” Xander said, rolling over again.

Spike listened as his breathing slowed back into the rhythm of sleep, the familiar sounds and scents of his Claimed surrounding him. He’d visit the camp site tomorrow evening. See it for himself. If necessary, thirty of the buggers wouldn’t pose much of a problem. His own inclination would be to simply swoop in with twenty or so vampires and kill them all. A proactive strike would solve the problem neatly. He didn’t like what he’d heard about the Knights. A bit too keen on destroying the Key first and foremost and he didn’t think they’d change their mind if they found out the Key was now a human girl.

‘Course, they’d been searching for the Key for a thousand years. What were the chances of them finding it in the next few days?

With that reassuring thought, Spike rested his head against Xander’s back and let the comforting familiarity of his Claimed’s heartbeat lull him into sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What can you tell me about the Knights of Byzantium?” Xander asked when the formalities were done. He set down his teacup and regarded Mr. Okolo steadily. He’d stopped by the house after work and Mr. Okolo had welcomed him in with no sign that he thought Xander was becoming a pest. 

“Not much, I’m afraid. They have always held themselves apart, not sharing their secrets with anyone.” Mr. Okolo took a sip of his tea and considered. “They have been in existence for over a thousand years,” he said finally. “Their sole purpose appears to be finding the location of the Key. Rumor has it that they recruit their members as young children and raise them with this single purpose in mind. If that is true, it is likely they are deeply indoctrinated and will not waiver in their purpose.”

“Yeah, Giles thought they were like that as well. I guess what I’m getting at is, are they basically good guys?”

“From their own point of view, I am sure that they are,” Mr. Okolo said, with a slight smile. “They are an ancient order of warrior priests the likes of which no longer exist in the modern world. They are dedicated to their creed and prepared to do violence in its name. If necessary, they will kill women, children, anyone who stands in their way. They possess many honorable qualities: courage, loyalty, dedication to an ideal, but one must always remember that their belief in the righteousness of their cause overrides every other consideration. I would not want to come between them and their goal.”

Xander nodded thoughtfully. He finished his tea and then rose. “Thanks, Mr. Okolo. I’m really grateful for your help.”

Mr. Okolo inclined his head. “The threat posed by Glorificus affects us all. I am glad if my small store of knowledge has been of assistance.”

As Xander reached the door, he heard Mr. Okolo call his name. Turning, he saw Mr. Okolo watching him. His deep-set eyes appeared to be reading Xander with uncanny accuracy. “Xander, please keep in mind that it is not a recent development for religious fanatics to be capable of committing unthinkable evil in the name of their god. The Christian knights who participated in the Crusades slaughtered whole towns of innocent people simply because they worshipped the divine by another name. In doing so, they believed themselves to be acting honorably and that they were following their god’s will.”

Xander stared back at him for a long moment, then nodded and left without saying anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How’s it coming?”

Willow had been downstairs in the basement all day, fiddling with the robot and trying to figure out what made her work. It would be easier, she’d said, if she could charge the batteries and test things, but Buffy had pointed out that she wouldn’t get much done with the robot trying to kill her and Willow had agreed.

She looked up now, pushing her hair back behind her ears and smiled at him. “I’ve found the main systems and I think I can download her program files without having to power her up fully, which eliminates the she may try and kill us problem, so, I think I’m making progress.” Seeing Xander’s blank look, she explained: “If I can download the program files onto my laptop, then I can work with them safely and find out if it’s possible to reprogram her.”

She pushed back from the table and stretched, rolling her shoulders and neck as she sought to get the kinks out. “But this isn’t something that’s going to happen overnight. We’re talking days, maybe weeks, depending on what I find.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” he told her, moving behind her and massaging her shoulders gently. “And not just because none of the rest of us would even begin to know what to do with her.”

Willow turned her head and smiled at him gratefully, relaxing into the shoulder massage with a sigh. “I’m glad I’m here too. It wouldn’t be right to be anywhere else for an apocalypse.”

“Have I mentioned that only crazy people run into a burning building?” he said, giving her shoulders a little squeeze.

“Well, we’re all crazy to some extent. Or why else would we still be here?” 

He thought about objecting, then remembered his plans for later that afternoon. “True. At least we’re in good company.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander approached the encampment, wondering if he should be carrying a white flag or something. Of course, he didn’t know if that would even mean anything to these guys. How far back did it go for a white flag to mean surrender? These guys appeared to be living in the past in a big way. 

He’d left the magic shop without telling anyone where he was headed, sure they would object. He didn’t think what he was planning was dangerous, but he suspected some of the others might disagree. Bottom line, he knew Spike would have someone watching the camp through the nights and, if anything went wrong, word would get back to Spike quickly. He’d thought about leaving a note, but hadn’t come up with any place he could leave it where it wouldn’t be found for a couple hours, but would be found in the next 12 hours or so. He’d just have to rely on the fact that Spike would either be watching the camp himself come nightfall, or would send a minion to keep an eye on things. A minion seeing Xander in the middle of the camp would be sure to notify Spike immediately. They all knew that Spike tended to get cranky and blame everyone in arm’s reach when Xander was in trouble.

He was familiar with the clearing the Knights were using from hiking in the woods with Jesse in past years, so it was easy to time his arrival for two hours before sunset. There was plenty of cover for him to keep an eye on things and, if everything went according to plan, he intended to be out of the area by the time the sun went down.

He watched the camp for nearly an hour before walking down into it, watching for patterns that would tell him who was in charge and what they were up to. The Knights moved about the clearing like they were campers on holiday. Campfires burned and the smell of cooking stew drifted through the woods to his position. Tents and a rope enclosure for horses completed a scene that seemed more like a movie set than real life but he wasn’t learning anything useful from his vantage point. 

Finally, there was nothing else to do but either go forward or retreat. Steeling himself, he rose to his feet and walked down the hill into the clearing, making sure to walk openly so no one would think he was trying to sneak up on them. He kept a wary eye out for sentries but the first hint he had that he’d been seen came when a sharp point pressed hard into the side of his neck. He stopped immediately, raising his hands in surrender and didn’t move.

“Who are you?”

The voice came from behind him and off to one side and he suspected that the man was far enough away that he couldn’t be reached with a sudden kick. Which was fine, he wasn’t intending to fight these guys anyway.

“My name is Xander. I’d like to speak to your leader.” 

“Why should he waste time with you?” The point of what appeared to be a very large sword traveled around his neck as the speaker circled around to face him, still holding the sword pressed uncomfortably hard against Xander’s neck. He found himself instinctively arching his neck backwards, trying to relieve the pressure a little.

“I’m here to negotiate a truce,” he said as calmly as he could, although his heart was pounding madly in his chest. 

When he got back, he really hoped that Spike would let him explain before killing him.


	31. Chapter 31

“Ours is a holy war.” The man growled out in a deep, gravelly voice that went well with his size and armor. “We do not make deals with the enemy.”

“Well, good, because I’m not your enemy. We want to stop Glory and...”

“You know of the Beast?” A new voice interrupted and a second Knight loomed into view. Xander wondered if the Knights were all big or if it was just their armor making it seem like they were.

“It’s a small town, she’s a little hard to miss.”

“You work with the Slayer.” A hand suddenly fisted itself in his hair, yanking his head back and the tip of a knife pressed into his throat, taking the place of the sword that dropped down to rest threateningly against his chest. “She protects the Key.” The Knight pulled him back against his body and dug the tip of the knife in harder until it broke the skin. Against every instinct, Xander forced himself to stay motionless and not struggle against the hold, letting the Knight manhandle him even as drops of blood began to trickle slowly down his throat.

“You will tell us all you know of the Key,” the Knight said with deadly intensity, his voice loud in Xander’s ear. “Or we will flay the skin from your body.”

“I know it exists and that’s all.” 

“Where is it hidden?” 

“I have no idea. And neither does the Slayer.”

“You lie.”

“And you have no honor.” 

It was a calculated gamble and, for one heart-stopping moment, Xander thought he’d lost. There was a hiss of anger in his ear and the blade pressed more deeply into his neck and Xander exploded into motion. Both hands shot up, grabbing the Knight’s wrist from the inside and pushing hard, stopping the knife before it could do any more damage. As they each fought for control of the movement of the knife - Xander trying to force it away and the Knight struggling to bury the blade in his neck, he shoved back hard against the Knight’s body, gaining a precious inch of distance from the sword at his chest and forcing his captor to step back to maintain his balance. Using the body behind him as support, he brought both legs up and landed a double-footed kick in the mid-section of the sword-wielding knight, staggering the man back but not knocking him off his feet as he’d hoped. Fire scored along his jaw as the knife carved a line across his skin and the knight behind him struggled to regain his balance as Xander’s weight shifted. He seized on the momentary imbalance and shoved the knife-arm away from him with adrenaline-born strength, lunging forward as he did so and yanking free of the grip on his hair. He spun to face the knife-guy, then stopped abruptly, hands held out in a gesture that was half readiness and half showing he had no weapons. His breathing was harsh in the momentary silence that followed in the wake of his attack.

“I came unarmed among you to speak with your leader. I have threatened none of you, yet you would kill an envoy unheard.”

He wasn’t sure where the wording came from, but suspected an old war movie was to blame. Or maybe Sergeant Rock. 

“Hold!”

Xander turned his eyes from the knife-guy, seeing another Knight approaching. Shorter than the others but still powerfully built, this one was a goateed black man, his forehead tattoo difficult to see in the increasing shadows. 

“He is right to chide you, brother,” he said to the knife-holder who hastily slid the knife away somewhere in his armor, and made a gesture that appeared to be some kind of salute - his arm brought up with his clenched fist to his breastbone. “This is a matter for the General.”

As the new guy gestured courteously for Xander to proceed him, Xander let out a long shaky breath. He was so never complaining again that Spike spent too much time training him how to get out of situations where someone had a weapon to his throat. Thank god what worked with teeth also worked with knives.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They brought him to the center of the encampment, the black man leading and the two sentries following Xander with swords still drawn - which might have been flattering if it weren’t so nervous-making. Quick orders had sent a half-dozen knights out on a sweep of the surrounding woods, checking for anyone waiting in ambush and Xander was glad he hadn’t lied to them about coming alone.

There was a campfire at the center of the clearing and a cluster of tents. Outside one of them, the stocky figure of a man about Giles’ age was seated at a table, going through some papers. One side of the man’s face was heavily scarred - an old wound of some kind, long-healed. He wore the same chain mail the other Knights did but his forehead tattoo was more elaborate than the one the others wore and he had a metal chain studded with dark red stones around his throat and Xander wondered if they were rank insignia of some kind. He didn’t need an introduction to know this was the General. Command radiated effortlessly from him, even seated and distracted.

“Who is this?” he asked, looking up, his eyes sweeping over Xander in a way that made him feel as if the man had catalogued everything about him. 

“He approached our sentries openly, General, and asked to speak to you,” the black man said. “He was unarmed.”

“You know us?” The General regarded him curiously.

“I heard you were in town. I wanted to talk to you before things get out of hand.”

The general folded his papers away and sat back in his chair. “The Beast is close to escaping her prison entirely,” he commented. “Things are already ‘out of hand’, as you say.” His English was perfect but somehow old fashioned and the modern phrasing sounded subtly wrong when he said it.

“We have a common enemy - Glory,” Xander pointed out. “I hoped maybe we could help each other.”

“I have as many reliable soldiers as I need. In what way could you possibly assist us?”

“I have the current Slayer and the Master of the Territory, as well as a number of additional fighters. We’ve successfully defended this town together for nearly five years, ever since the Slayer arrived.”

The general frowned. “We do not work with outside forces, especially those tainted with evil.”

Xander let the evil bit slide without protest. “Not even against a common enemy?”

“Not even against a most uncommon enemy,” the General answered dryly. “Your fighters are useless against the Beast. She cannot be stopped even by a Slayer. My warriors are prepared to die, but their strength is useless against her. Our only hope is to find the Key before the Beast does.”

“With all due respect,” Xander said carefully. Given the number of armed men surrounding him, he suspected pissing off their leader would be a bad idea. Especially since Giles had said something about these guys being fanatically loyal. “You’ve been searching for the Key for hundreds of years. Are you any closer to finding it now than you ever have been?”

The General leaned back slightly, regarding him impassively. “The Key is here.”

“Do you know that, or are you just guessing because Glory’s here?” Xander shot back. “We’ve been looking for several months now and are no closer to finding out what it is than you are. And we’ve been looking in one small town.”

“The monks sent the Key to the Slayer.”

“Maybe, but they didn’t tell her they were sending it and they sure as hell didn’t tell her what it looks like, or where it’s hidden,” Xander said calmly. “They did a good enough job hiding it that it may be that no one will ever find it but, in the meantime, Glory’s out there now and, whatever else she’s planning, she’s sucking the brains out of the people who live here even as we speak.”

“That is regrettable but not our concern.”

Xander bit back an angry reply, saying instead: “The man currently strapped to a hospital bed might feel a bit differently about that. He used to be one of yours.”

There was a stirring behind him, as the Knights that had been gathering around to listen reacted to the news. The General’s face remained carved from stone but there was a flicker of concern in his eyes. “One of my men is in the hospital?”

“Yes. Tall, slender, dark hair, grey eyes. Forehead tattoo.” He looked around. “Not that that last is particularly helpful.”

“Orlando.” The Knight who’d brought him to the general spoke grimly. He’d moved to stand behind the General, and Xander guessed from his position at the General’s shoulder that he might be the second in command.

“Yes. See to it, Dante,” the General ordered. The black man bowed and backed away, signaling for two other men to follow him as he moved away, the Knights parting to let him through the crowd. Spike’s numbers had been off, Xander thought uneasily, or else more Knights were still arriving. He estimated there was close to fifty of them in the camp.

“What’s he going to do?” he asked, taking a half step forward, then freezing when the Knights half-drew their weapons. 

“Rescue our brother from captivity,” the General told him.

“Oh. Good.” Xander relaxed, turning his attention back to the main problem. “Since none of us have been able to find the Key, don’t you think we should focus on Glory instead? I’d say our only chance is to stop Glory from finding the Key before the proper time and place for it to be used.”

“Stopping the Beast in this time and place would be a worthy achievement,” the General acknowledged. “It is not enough. The Beast will go on, waiting for another opportunity. Do you think that, throughout all millennia, this is the only moment in which the Key can be used?” He shook his head. “There have been times in the past and will be more in the future. The only way to ensure the Beast is stopped forever is to destroy the Key. With the Key destroyed, the Beast will lose hope and will wither and die.”

“And again - you’ve been searching for the Key for a long time. I don’t like your chances of finding it before the ritual. Aren’t your efforts better focused on stopping Glory this time and buying us - well, you - another couple hundred years to look for it?”

“The Key is too dangerous to be allowed to exist.”

“So is Glory,” Xander shot back. “Since our chances of finding the Key or stopping Glory seem equally impossible, I’ll settle for putting her back in hibernation for another century.”

“The Key is the link. The link must be severed. Such is the will of God.” The General’s eyes bored into his. “That is our credo. Our sacred trust. We must destroy the Key. It is the will of God.”

“Will you at least not interfere with our efforts to stop Glory?” he asked, defeated by the utter certainty of the Knight. “We could use your help, but at the very least, it would be nice if your men weren’t trying to kill the Slayer, because we need her - and not just against Glory.”

The General tilted his head and regarded him steadily for a long moment. Finally, he gave a short nod. “We will not deliberately seek the Slayer’s death, so long as she does not interfere with our quest for the Key.” He stood up, revealing himself to be a short, powerfully built man. “But know this, if the Slayer knows where the Key is hidden, we will do whatever it takes to wrest that information from her. There is no honor in making war upon women, but all other considerations are as nothing before our duty to our god.”

Xander nodded. “Understood.” Buffy wouldn’t care about making war on women part - if anything, she’d probably be insulted by it. But obviously these guys weren’t going to be deterred by the fact that the Key was now human. They would destroy Dawn and think they were doing the right thing.

“Would you be willing to share what you know about Glory? Anything that might help us.” The corner of his mouth turned up wryly. “I suspect you know everything we know, but I’m willing to share what little we’ve learned, if it can help you.”

“A fair exchange,” the General agreed.

~~~~~~ 

To Xander’s surprise, the General signaled for his men to bring chairs to the table and Xander found himself being served a large bowl of stew, and eating in company with the General and three of his men while the other Knights drifted away to eat at their own tents.

There was something decidedly surreal about the meal. Xander couldn’t decide if the Knights were as uncomfortable as he was or if they were just naturally quiet. Very few words were exchanged during the brief meal and Xander was relieved when a young Knight appeared to pick up their dishes. 

“What do you know of the Beast?” the General asked him after the table had been cleared.

Xander thought for a moment about their encounters with Glory. “She’s a Hellgod. From another dimension. Nearly invulnerable. And she’s trying to find the Key so she can get back home.” He shrugged. “That’s most of the important stuff.”

The General nodded. “The Beast is from a dimension of unspeakable torment, where she ruled with two other hellgods. Along with the Beast, they were a triumvirate of suffering and despair, ruling with equal vengeance. But the Beast’s power grew beyond even what they could conceive, as did her lust for pain and misery. They looked upon her, what she had become, and trembled.”

He broke off his recital, looking at Xander soberly. “Such was her power. They feared she would attempt to seize their dimension for herself, and decided to strike first. A battle erupted. In the end, they stood victorious over the Beast. She was cast out, banished to this lower plane of existence.” 

“She’s imprisoned in a human body, right? Any ideas about who that is?”

A flicker of surprise crossed the General’s face. “You have done well. We believed we were the only ones who knew that fact. Yes, in casting her out, the Beast was forced to live and eventually die, trapped within the body of a mortal. A newborn male, created as her prison. That is the beast’s only weakness.”

“So, if we kill the human she’s imprisoned inside, she’ll die too,” Xander said, half statement, half question. The General’s nod confirmed it.

“Unfortunately, the identity of the human vessel has never been discovered.

“Are you sure about the newborn male part? I've seen Glory and trust me, she’s full-grown and she’s not a guy.”

“You have seen a glimpse of the true Beast. Her power is too great to be completely contained. She has found a way to escape her mortal prison for brief periods before her energies are exhausted and she is forced back into her living cell of meat and bone.”

“So the human wouldn’t necessarily know his body is being hijacked?”

“That I cannot answer. There is much about her prison that remains unknown.”

Xander hesitated, then asked: “Are you willing to share what you know about the Key?”

The General studied him silently for what felt like a long time before answering. “The Key is almost as old as the Beast itself. Where it came from, how it was created, is the deepest of mysteries. All that is certain is that its power is absolute. Countless generations of my people have sacrificed their lives in search of it. To destroy it before its wrath could be unleashed.”

“And Glory needs it to get back home,” he said.

“Yes. The Beast will use the power of the Key to return home and seize control of the Hell she was banished from.”

“Um, just hypothetically - is that bad? I mean, it would get rid of Glory, which seems like a good thing.” Giles and Ethan had been pretty clear that opening dimensional doorways was not a good thing, but he was curious what the Knights thought about it.

The General gave him a look, the kind a teacher leveled on a student who’d just asked a particularly stupid question. “Once the Key is activated, it won’t just open the gates to the Beast’s dimension. It’s going to open all the gates. The walls separating realities will crumble, dimensions will bleed into each other. Order will be overthrown and the universe will tumble into chaos. All dark. Forever. That is why the Key is too dangerous to be allowed to exist.”

Put that way, Xander could see why they’d spent thousands of years trying to find and destroy the Key. Under other circumstances, he’d be right there with them. If the Key was a toaster, he’d be first in line with a sledge hammer. Which was the problem. The Key wasn’t a toaster. It was a living, breathing, sometimes irritating teenager that he loved.

“Do you know how long we have? When the mystical convergence, or whatever, happens?” he asked.

“Not the exact moment, but the time draws near. It could be hours, or days from now. A few weeks at the most.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking back to the Magic Box, Xander wondered if they should re-think the whole take-Dawn-out-of-town-immediately idea. If Glory only had a few weeks to act, could she find the Summers women if they got on a plane and just left? And what about the Knights? Would they figure it out if Buffy took her mother and sister with her? Because they weren’t going to stop trying to find the Key, not when they’d been looking for - what was it the General had said? “Countless generations”. Those guys weren’t going to give up any time soon. 

He didn’t know what to make of the Knights. On the one hand, someone seriously needed to drag them kicking and screaming into the 21st Century. On the other, half the people he knew used swords and axes regularly and complaining about the Knights’ being old fashioned was probably hypocritical. A reluctant grin creased his face at the thought, at least he knew how to drive a car in addition to his medieval weaponry skills. In any case, it probably didn’t matter anyway because he had a depressing feeling that even firing a rocket launcher at Glory at pointblank range wasn’t going to do anything except make her bitch about her dress being singed. 

There were nearly fifty of the Knights here now. Given that Spike’s minions tended to get dusted for failing Spike, he was pretty sure the minion who’d counted them the other night had done a good job. Which meant more were arriving in town. The one Knight had told Buffy they had a thousand warriors. The guy may have been bluffing, but obviously they couldn’t rely on that comforting thought. And that was a lot of people to go hunting if Buffy suddenly left town with her family. Even without knowing about Dawn, the Knights were bound to assume that Buffy had taken the Key with her if she left. 

As if they didn’t have enough problems, they needed a long term solution to the Knights. Otherwise, Buffy and Dawn would never be able to have a normal life. Because, even if Glory conveniently disappeared for all time in a puff of smoke, the Knights wanted to destroy the Key. They thought it was inherently dangerous and wouldn’t be satisfied to just let things go on as they were, even if Glory was out of the picture permanently. 

He shook his head impatiently. The Knights could wait. Glory was the immediate problem and getting past the time when she could use Dawn to open the gates between dimensions was the priority. And for that, all they needed was to keep Dawn hidden until after zero hour. And they had a chaos mage on their side. 

Would it be possible for Ethan to work some sort of spell to cover Buffy leaving town with Dawn? To make it look like she was still here after she’d left?

Pleased with the idea, Xander quickened his steps, hoping Ethan would be at the shop when he got there. Running away and waiting it out seemed like two things they could actually do against Glory. Sure beat the hell out of their current plan which mostly involved bleeding and dying and losing Dawn.


	32. Chapter 32

“Xander! Are you alright?” Tara stepped out from behind the counter, hurrying to meet him as he entered the magic shop.

“I’m fine,” he told her, puzzled by her reaction. It wasn’t like he’d told anyone where he was going. “Where’s…?”

“Your neck’s bleeding,” she interrupted. 

“Oh, that.” Xander put a hand to his neck and felt the stickiness of dried blood. Jeez, you’d think one of the Knights would have mentioned that he should wash up before eating dinner. “It’s nothing. A… misunderstanding.”

“Well, that misunderstanding looks an awful lot like someone tried to slit your throat,” she told him, firmly steering him towards the back. “Come on, we’ve got a first aid kit in the office.”

He went willingly, hoping to get cleaned up before anyone else saw him. The last thing he needed was for Spike to find out one of the Knights had tried to stab him. Spike didn’t have a real live and let live attitude towards people who threatened him and Xander didn’t want him destroying the fragile truce with crazy vengeance schemes. Ok, truce was probably a strong word for what he had achieved tonight, but any cooperation would come to a screeching halt if Spike started slaughtering the Knights in revenge for a minor cut.

There was a small mirror that Buffy had put up for fixing her makeup after working out and Xander grimaced as he saw his reflection. The knife had left a nasty cut running just below the line of his jaw and it had bled worse than he’d realized, leaving a dark red trail down his throat and discoloring the neck of his t-shirt. A hand appeared next to his face and he jumped, then gratefully took the damp cloth from Tara, using it to gingerly clean the dried blood off.

The wound itself wasn’t deep, except at one end where the Knight had dug the tip of the knife into his neck. Other than that, the blade had just left a shallow cut, which had bled fairly heavily but wasn’t something he’d need much more than a band aid for. 

He was trying to decide whether a band aid would make things look better or worse, when Tara took the decision out of his hands, taping a square gauze bandage over the worst of the damage. She gave him a stern look when he opened his mouth to protest and he subsided meekly.

“Where is everyone?” he asked, peeling his shirt off and taking it to the bathroom sink. He ran cold water over the bloody patch on the fabric and grabbed a bar of soap. Tara followed him, watching as he scrubbed at the stain.

“Willow’s downstairs with the robot. I may start treating it as a rival if she keeps spending so much time with it,” she told him, and he glanced up at her in the mirror, seeing her impish smile reflected back at him. “Giles drove Buffy to the hospital to pick up Dawn. She’s fine,” she said quickly, seeing the alarm in his face. “Ben called. Dawn was in the psych ward talking to the Byzantium Knight.”

“What?” Xander dropped the shirt and swung around to face her.

“Apparently, she wanted to ask him some questions about who she is.” Tara shook her head, though her eyes were understanding. “She thought that the mental patients might be able to tell her something since they seem to know there’s something different about her.”

“Which is a really good reason to stay away from them,” Xander said in exasperation. “Kinda missed the point about them being crazy, didn’t she?” he added more gently. Like Tara, he could understand Dawn’s need to know more about what she was. He shut the water off and inspected the shirt. Most of the blood had washed clean and he tugged the damp shirt back on over his head.

“Oh crap!” he exclaimed as a sudden thought struck him. He yanked the damp fabric into place and stepped past Tara out of the bathroom, fishing his cell phone out of his pocket and dialing Buffy’s number. He waited impatiently for the call to be answered, but the phone just kept ringing. “Damn it. She’s not picking up” When the outgoing message ended, he said: “Buffy, a couple of Knights are coming to the hospital to pick up their friend. You guys might want to clear out before they get there.”

Tara was watching him as he flipped the phone closed. “How do you know that the Knights are going to the hospital?”

“I talked to their General tonight.” He shrugged at her wide-eyed stare. “He was willing to tell me what they knew about Glory - some of which is possibly helpful - but they won’t back off about the Key. That’s their priority, not Glory, and that isn’t going to change.”

“You talked to the Knights?” 

He hadn’t heard the bell over the door ring, and Xander turned in surprise to see Buffy, Dawn and Giles standing behind him. Buffy was scowling at him, arms folded over her chest. “I thought we agreed that the Knights were the enemy.”

“No, we just agreed they weren’t allies. It’s not quite the same thing.”

Xander darted a quick glance at Dawn, who looked sullen, in the way she got when Buffy had been lecturing her. Finding out she was the Key hadn’t changed the fact that Dawn resented it when Buffy yelled at her for something. Even when it was something that could have been dangerous. 

“Xander, you better have one hell of a good reason for talking to those people, because I am really not in the mood for dealing with any more idiotic stunts tonight.”

Dawn’s lips tightened and she whirled away, flinging herself down into a chair at the research table, her folded arms and furious scowl a dead ringer for her sister’s.

“How about intel on Glory? That good enough for you?”

“You’ve learned something new?” Giles asked eagerly.

They all settled down at the table, listening as Xander filled them in on what the Knights had told him. 

Willow, whom Tara had called up from the basement to hear his story, interrupted as Xander repeated what the General had said about Glory being imprisoned inside a human male. “Wait, that doesn’t make sense. I thought you all believed that Glory was in a woman’s body?”

Xander shrugged. “According to the General, it’s a guy. He said that when Glory escapes from her prison, we’re seeing a hint of her true nature. The good news is, she’s apparently only able to escape for short periods of time, which is why she goes AWOL between sightings. She’s back to being some anonymous guy who probably doesn’t know he’s got a hellgod hidden inside him.” 

Willow still looked puzzled. “What was the bit about Glory being forced to live and someday die, trapped in the body of a mortal?” She looked at Giles, “I thought Glory had been around forever?”

“According to the Book of Tarnis, she was cast out of her own dimension millennia ago,” Giles confirmed. 

“So, does that mean that the human she’s imprisoned inside is re-born over and over, or that Glory was somehow sent to our time?” Willow asked, looking confused.

“Who knows?” Giles frowned. “Since the Knights know the host body is male, and yet say they have never been able to ascertain the identity of the man, that would suggest that the prison changes every generation - the old host dies, and a new one is born.”

“B-but wouldn’t that kind of movement from body to body leave an energy trail?” Tara asked hesitantly. “I would think that could be traced magically, if-if that was the case.”

“Good point,” Giles admitted. “But I don’t understand how Glory’s… essence can have been trapped inside a single human if she’s been in this dimension for as long as the books say she has.” He glanced around the circle at their attentive faces. “A suitably inconspicuous host thousands of years ago might very well stick out like the proverbial sore thumb in the modern world.”

“This is all really great theoretical stuff,” Xander said, lying through his teeth diplomatically, “but it doesn’t really matter how or when she got stuck inside her current host, or if she used to be in someone else. Right now, we only have to deal with the one guy. If we can figure out who it is, we’ve got our answer against Glory.”

“What do you mean, ‘we’ve got our answer’?” Buffy asked. “How does it help to identify the host?”

“The Knights said that, if we kill the human host, Glory dies too,” Xander said bluntly.

“You can’t mean that,” Willow said faintly, looking sick. “We can’t kill a human being.”

Buffy shook her head. “No, we can’t. That’s not how we…”

Xander cut her off, his voice hard. “Buffy, if you finish that sentence, I will never speak to you again. We’ve already done that exact same thing, in case you’re forgetting.”

Willow stared at him, then her eyes swung to Buffy, her face going white. “You killed someone?”

“No, we haven’t,” Buffy said crossly. “Xander, what are you talking about?”

“We all agreed to kill Glory’s minion in cold blood,” Xander reminded her, his eyes holding Buffy’s, the guilt that still burned inside him at what they’d done flaring into white-hot anger. “Yeah, he was working for Glory, but he was tied to a chair and completely helpless and we all agreed to first torture and then murder him. So I don’t want to hear another word about how we’re too good to kill humans, because we’re already murderers. We killed a sentient being who was completely helpless and at our non-existent mercy. And if you tell me that it’s somehow different because he was a demon and not human, then you’re going to have to explain to me the difference between him and someone you like, like Mr. Olsen or Sergeant Morgan. Because if they’re on your ok to kill list just because they’re demons, then you’d better tell them that.”

There was a long silence and Buffy’s eyes fell. Willow looked stunned, Tara and Dawn looked uncomfortable and guilty, and Giles… Giles was as expressionless as if he’d been carved from stone.

“Xander’s right,” he said quietly. “To prevent the destruction of this world, I am prepared to do whatever I have to. As much as I would wish it otherwise, if killing the host body is the only way to prevent Glory from tearing down the dimensional walls and destroying this world, then we may have to do just that.” He looked around at all of them. “Even if that host is an innocent.”

Xander got to his feet, feeling a thousand years old, and hating himself for losing it and saying all that in front of Dawn. She was smart, she’d know they’d done it to keep her safe and she didn’t need that burden on top of what she was already dealing with. It had been their decision, theirs were the bloody hands, not Dawn’s. He hesitated, looking over at Dawn’s bowed head, but sighed and decided to finish what he needed to say anyway. Dawn should know, especially if she was going to be doing crazy things like visiting the mental ward to find out more about herself.

“The Knights aren’t going to stop looking for the Key, even if we find a way to stop Glory permanently. They’re obsessed with the Key and think destroying it is the only way to prevent its power from being misused - by Glory or someone else.” From somewhere, he dredged up a smile for Dawn who’d raised her head and was looking at him with wide, frightened eyes. “It’s not an emergency, I just mean that we’re going to have to deal with them at some point. So we need to come up with a plan that covers the Knights.”

“Kill ‘em all works for me,” Spike suggested. 

Surprised, Xander twisted around to see Spike standing at the door. Spike’s eyes flared yellow as they fastened on his neck and Xander only barely managed to stop his instinctive move to hide the bandage, despite the uselessness of any attempt to do so.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander’s angry tones had been clearly audible from the moment Spike had entered the basement. He paused for a moment, head cocked, listening as Xander reminded the others in scathing tones about the minion they had killed. He sighed quietly to himself as he listened. He hadn’t spoken of it again, but it was obvious that Xander hadn’t put the incident behind him. Human-like, he was still torturing himself over a worthless minion that was long since rotting in the rubbish heaps at the town dump and who hadn’t been worth a second thought when he’d still been alive.

The raw pain in Xander’s voice urged him forward and he climbed the steps to the main floor on silent feet, grinning now at the shocked silence that followed Rupert’s pronouncement that he would do whatever was necessary. Slayer should know her Watcher better than that by now. His grin faded as Xander described the Knight’s obsession with the Key. Slipping silently into the shop, Spike took in the positions around the table and Dawn’s frightened eyes. Given the other’s reaction to Xander’s very sensible suggestion that they find and off Glory’s human host, Spike suspected they wouldn’t like his own suggestion that they simply kill the Knights and be done with it.

Didn’t stop him from saying it.

Xander twisted around at the sound of his voice and Spike saw the bandage on his neck for the first time. Fury rose up in him, killing his amusement at the others’ reaction to his statement. He knew a knife wound when he saw one and the thread-thin line emerging from the white patch of bandage had been a near-miss. One that had come perilously close to killing Xander.

He lifted his eyes to meet Xander’s, seeing the barely perceptible motion of his hand as Xander checked his immediate reaction to hide the wound. 

Behind Xander, he saw Buffy shake her head. “Great plan, Spike.”

“Usually works best,” he pointed out, his gaze never shifting from Xander’s face.

Xander smiled at him. “Still, we may want to tweak that one a little.”

Spike walked over to join him and ran a gentle finger along his neck, just below the cut. “What’s this, luv?” he asked quietly, holding back his anger with an effort.

“A misunderstanding,” Xander said, then shrugged at Spike’s lifted eyebrow and added a few more details. “Over-enthusiastic sentry. His officer straightened him out. I’m fine, Spike.”

Long experience with Xander’s recklessness had taught him to listen to what Xander left out as well as to what he actually said. If Xander had had an encounter with a sentry, he hadn’t gotten the new information about the Knights by chance. He’d gone to their camp. Xander had once again deliberately put himself in danger, going to meet with the enemy on his own and without telling Spike. Probably because he knew bloody well that Spike wouldn’t have let him go.

Spike’s jaw tightened and his hand closed firmly around Xander’s upper arm. “We need to talk.” Not waiting for an answer, he tugged Xander away from the group.

“Spike!” Buffy said, “what are you doing?”

“Stay out of it, Slayer,” he snarled. “This is between me and my Claimed.” He pulled Xander into the training room, shutting the door firmly on the curious faces of the others.  
As the door closed behind them, he released his grip on Xander, folding his arms and staring at his Claimed. 

“Spike, I’m fine. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Almost getting your throat cut is a big deal, Xander.”

Xander shook his head. “That’s not what happened.” At Spike’s glare, he had the grace to look sheepish. “Ok, that’s kind of what happened, but…”

“You promised me you would stop risking your life for no good reason,” Spike gritted out.

“I didn’t…”

“You bloody did! You walked into the enemy camp, alone, and without telling anyone.” It was a safe bet, that Xander hadn’t told anyone. None of the others would have let him go into the Knights camp alone either. “You could have been killed. You almost were. You promised you wouldn’t risk your life for no reason like that.”

To Spike’s fury, Xander folded his arms stubbornly. “It wasn’t like that. I thought about it for a long time before I acted. I knew that if I went in unarmed, they wouldn’t view me as a threat.”

“You didn’t know that. You guessed. Xander, these aren’t the fucking Waltons. They aren’t even a modern army. They’re a bunch of religious fanatics on a mission. Far as they’re concerned, you work for their mortal enemy. They know the Slayer’s hiding the Key. They already tried to kill her once. The minute you walked into their camp, they could have decided to do what one of them bloody nearly did - regard you as an enemy and chop your head off. Or they could have taken you prisoner and tried to torture the Key’s location out of you.”

“But it didn’t happen. One of the sentries got a little overeager, like I said. His superior chewed him out.” Xander sighed. “Spike, I knew if I told you, you’d pitch a fit. And we needed to know what they knew about Glory. We’re fighting blind and that’s a hell of a lot more dangerous for all of us than me talking to the Knights.”

Against his will, Spike had to concede that Xander had a point. The information about Glory’s host was the most promising lead any of them had come up with for how to deal with her. He wasn’t about to encourage Xander by admitting it though. “Would have been a lot safer if the Slayer and I had gone with you,” he said.

“Yeah, because you two are known for your diplomatic skills,” Xander said, smiling at him. 

He could hardly argue that. The Slayer had the diplomatic skills of a herd of stampeding cattle. “You implyin’ I can’t do subtle?”

“Of course not.” Xander’s smile morphed into a smirk. “I would never imply that your idea of subtle is to beat someone up to make sure they got your point.” He took a step forward. “I promise, Spike. I thought this through, and I was right.” He searched Spike’s eyes earnestly. “We learned something new about Glory, and we know the Knights are going to be a threat to Dawn.”

Spike shook his head. “Can’t keep judging situations after the fact, Xander, Just because you weren’t actually killed, doesn’t mean there wasn’t a better way to handle it.” He sighed. “Fucking chaining you to the bed,” he muttered, knowing he was beaten and only somewhat cheered up by Xander sliding an arm around his waist. 

“Sounds like fun,” his boy murmured. 

Spike cocked his eyebrow at him, pulling him a little closer. “Don’t tempt me.”

Oh, well, he’d always known he was in love with someone with the survival instincts of a depressed lemming.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Need a break?”

As usual, Willow had been downstairs all day, working on the robot while Tara was in classes. Xander had gotten used to stopping off in the basement of the magic shop first thing to bring her a cup of coffee and give her a chance to stretch and deal with something other than the computer files she’d been obsessing over ever since she successfully downloaded them onto her computer.

Willow lifted her head and looked at him blankly for a moment, then smiled and took her hands off the keyboard. The rapid clicking of keys that had been the only sound died away and she stretched and shook her shoulders.

“A break would be great,” she admitted.

Xander held out the cup of coffee temptingly. “One coffee, just the way you like it, but only if you come upstairs to drink it.”

“Deal.” Willow saved her work, then got to her feet stiffly. 

“How’s it going?”

Her face lit up with excitement, banishing the tiredness from around her eyes. “I’m really making progress.” She took the cup of coffee from him and drank thirstily, then obediently followed him up the stairs. “Warren is a genius. There are design features in that robot that outstrip anything currently being developed, and he’s a brilliant programmer.” At Xander’s amused look, she rolled her eyes. “Ok, he’s a psychotic, robot-girlfriend building, misogynist loser type of genius, and let’s not even talk about the sex subroutines, because - gross! And that wasn’t really your question, was it?”

Xander’s grin was out of control. “Nope.”

“Well, I’ve been able to clean out everything relating to Warren and sex. And did I mention the gross part?”

“You did,” he assured her.

“I’m not having as much luck reprogramming her to fight. She’s going to be pretty basic. Pretty much see Glory, hit Glory, is about as good as she’s ever going to get.” She sighed, looking discouraged. “I don’t really know how to program her to do anything sophisticated.”

“If you can program her to hit Glory really hard, and with big heavy objects, that should be good enough. Willow, nobody expects her to be perfect. Think of her as an expendable shock troop, something to throw at Glory so the rest of us don’t have to tackle her.”

“I can do that,” Willow said thoughtfully, sitting down at the table. “Where is everyone?” she asked, looking around at the empty store.

“Giles took off on an errand as soon as I got here. Everyone else is still at school, and it’s not quite sunset yet.”

Willow took another sip of her coffee. “Xander, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.” 

“What’s that?” 

“The other day, when you were telling us about the Knights?” Xander nodded and she continued hesitantly. “The way Spike dragged you out of here…” she hesitated, then continued resolutely. “I know the two of you came back in and everything seemed fine, but he was obviously angry with you…”

“Willow, Spike didn’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re asking,” he interrupted.

“No, I know he didn’t hurt you physically. But Xander,” her brow furrowed and she chewed on her lip nervously for a second, “There’s other ways of being abusive. From an outsider’s perspective, it looked a lot like he was controlling you.”

“He was angry, Willow. He thought I’d put myself in danger by talking to the Knights.”

“Well he wasn’t wrong about that.” She pointed an accusing finger at the fading cut on his throat. “It was a dumb thing to do, Xander.”

“Maybe,” he conceded, “But it worked out ok. And that’s pretty much what Spike and I hashed out.” He shook his head, not sure what to think about her concerns. “Spike doesn’t control me, Willow. He lets me do things that no other Master Vampire has ever let their Claimed human do.”

His attempt to reassure her was an abysmal failure as her eyes clouded with worry and the beginnings of anger. “Listen to yourself, Xander. He ’let’s’ you do things? He is controlling you.”

“You’re wrong,” he said flatly. “Spike has given up more for our relationship than you can even imagine. It’s different with demons, Willow. They don’t see things the way we do. Spike’s instincts tell him that I belong to him, that I’m his property, and that I should be with him every minute. He fights those instincts every day. And he does it because he loves me.” He stared at her, willing her to understand. “No other vampire would let their Claimed work, have friends, leave the lair without him. Spike does all of that and more and you have no idea of how much that means, that Spike is willing to give that to me, because it makes me happy. If Spike was controlling me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I’d be chained to his throne 24-7, by his side where I belong.”

Willow looked shocked, then appalled at his words, but gradually the shock faded and she looked like she was thinking it over.

“I didn’t start dating Spike lightly, Willow. I knew what I was getting into. And Spike is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He hoped the utter certainty in his words would convince her, because he’d never spoken truer words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You killed him for me, didn’t you?”

Xander closed his eyes for one second. He didn’t have any doubt at all what Dawn was talking about and he wished with all his heart he hadn’t opened his big fat mouth the other day. He wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with this, especially on the heels of his conversation with Willow. Willow had headed back down to the basement shortly after Dawn arrived, reassured but still doubting. Xander just hoped that their conversation had cleared the air a bit. It had surprised and disconcerted him, learning that Willow thought he was a battered spouse - emotionally if not physically, and he hoped she understood things better now. He was touched by the concern but suspected that it came more from lingering dislike and distrust of Spike, rather than anything else.

He blew out a long breath and turned to face Dawn. “Yeah, Dawnie,” her told her gently. “And I do it again in a heartbeat. If we’d let him go, he would have gone straight back to Glory and that might have led Glory to you. None of us were willing to risk it.”

Dawn looked away. “It’s my fault.”

“It was my choice, Dawn. Not your’s, not anyone else’s. And I’d make that same decision again, for you or anyone else I love. He chose to work for Glory, and he would have told Glory everything about us, and about you. We couldn’t let him live or we might all have died.”

Dawn ducked her head and concentrated on her homework, or pretended to and Xander sat down next to her and tried to think of something to say. Nothing came to him. 

He’d killed a lot of things by now, vampires and zombies and demons of various kinds. But that was the only time he’d ever killed something helpless, something that wasn’t fighting back and trying to kill him. It made it different. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Dawn he would do it again but it was hard. Knowing that he had that kind of ruthlessness in him. 

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t realize how long the silence had lasted or notice how long Dawn had been bent over the same page of her text, face hidden behind her hair until she looked up at him, her eyes troubled.

“You shouldn’t have done it. I’m not worth it. I’m nothing. I’m not even human.”

“Of course you’re human.” he said quickly, snapping out of his own depressed thoughts, shocked at the hollowness of her voice.

“I’m not. They can see it,” she said painfully. “At the mental ward. I freaked out the patients. They could tell I’m not human.” She blinked hard against the tears that were threatening. 

He fought back the easy answer, that they were crazy and didn’t count. “Dawn, the reason we’re all so worried about anyone finding out about you, is because you’re human now. If you were still the Key, you’d probably be able to take care of yourself. But the monks did a good job. You’re human now. Zits and all.”

That won a fleeting, reluctant smile. “I so don’t have zits.”

“Maybe not this week…” He put his arm around her and she leaned against his shoulder, looking lost and so young and fragile it broke his heart. “I don’t care what you are, Dawn. The Key, or just Dawn, Joyce’s younger daughter and all-around brat, I still love you.” He pressed a kiss into the top of her head and she smiled again and this time it lasted a little longer. “And remember, Spike isn’t human. Mr. Olsen isn’t human. Sergeant Morgan isn’t human. If you’re a little more than just human, I’d say you’re in pretty good company.”

“Maybe,” she said, not sounding particularly convinced.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rang and he reluctantly left Dawn’s side to answer it, hoping he’d eased her mind a little. She still had issues on issues about being the Key, but hopefully, she’d have years and years ahead for them to remind her that she was Dawn, and human, and loved.

“Magic Box,” he said into the phone, waving at Tara as she stepped into the shop. She gave him a smile and a wave back as she stepped inside, Spike on her heels. Behind them, Xander saw that the sun was well and truly down, twilight fading into true dark. He’d been sitting with his arm around Dawn, her head on his shoulder for longer than he’d realized.

“Xander?”

“Hi, Mr. Olsen, what’s up?”

“I’m wondering if we could set up a formal strategy meeting between our two groups.” Mr. Olsen sounded cautious, choosing his words carefully, almost as if he was trying to convey some message without actually saying it. “Perhaps Master Spike and yourself, as well as the Slayer and her Watcher, with an equal number from our group.”

Xander was silent for a minute, trying to figure out what Mr. Olsen wasn’t saying. He watched as Spike settled down beside Dawn and she smiled at him, looking as if she hadn’t just been agonizing over her position in the world. Tara had already disappeared down the stairs to the basement, and Xander turned his attention back to the phone.

“I’m sure that would be fine,” he answered slowly. “When would you like to meet?”

“Tomorrow evening? 7:00, if that’s convenient?”

Xander agreed and Mr. Olsen asked if his house would be suitable. “The room where we met before defeating the Initiative together,” he suggested. “Perhaps it will bring us a similar outcome.”

Hanging up slowly, Xander was still puzzling over Mr. Olsen’s odd formality and wondering if he’d been trying to convey a message of some kind. And why he hadn’t just come out and said it, if he’d had one.

The sound of someone racing up the stairs from the basement, brought him swinging around to face them, his hand reaching for the weapons stored under the counter as the feet stumbled and clattered on the stairs in panicked haste.

Tara tripped and nearly fell as she reached the top, and Xander leapt forward to meet her as her hands clung to the wall to keep herself upright. Her face was white and her hands were shaking as she gasped out: “Willow’s gone.”


	33. Chapter 33

Spike was moving almost before the words left Tara’s mouth, shoving his chair back and brushing past her as he leapt down the stairs. He scanned the basement quickly and cursed out loud as he saw no signs of a struggle. The robot lay undisturbed on the table, same as it had all week, and the witch’s laptop was open, its screen displaying lines of gibberish. If that fucking bitch had sold them out, he was going to eviscerate her, he thought savagely.

He dropped down to the sewer entrance and stopped short, frowning as he saw the gate that they’d installed over the entrance to the Magic Box. It had been pried off its hinges, hanging twisted from the lock, the narrow gap wide enough for the witch’s slender body to pass through it, but he had to admit he doubted the redhead would have had the foresight to pry the gate off with a crowbar to cover her tracks. Something must have taken her. 

“Spike? What do you see?”

Spike crouched down, snatching at the scrap of coarse wool that had snagged on the sharp edge of the lower hinge. One whiff told him what he needed to know and he looked up grimly at Xander’s anxious face at the top of the ladder. 

“Glory,” he said. “Her minions anyway. One of them caught his robe here.” Glory’s minions had a distinct, unpleasant smell, like the heavy, musty odor of rotting grain, and it permeated the scrap of fabric.

Tara’s gasp sounded from behind Xander and Xander’s face went pale. “Can you track them?” he asked anxiously. “They can’t have gone far, there hasn’t been enough time.”

Spike was already on it, forcing the broken gate open wider, he stepped into the tunnels and stretched out his senses, looking, listening and smelling for any sign of which way they’d gone. No tracks and the smell wasn’t strong enough for him to follow - he wasn’t a fucking bloodhound. The tunnel was silent, except for the ever-present sound of water dripping, no sound of a hostage struggling or hurrying footsteps to follow. The only possible clue was the faint skittering sound of claws on cement as something small and timid scurried along the tunnel. Question was, did it mean something just disturbed by the passage of something larger and scarier, or was that an all-clear for that direction and they should head the other way? 

He cursed his indecision and moved down the tunnel a few yards, hoping for some sign: another fragment of cloth, a drop of blood, a suspicious scuff mark on the concrete, anything for them to follow.

There was nothing.

Xander pushed his broader body through the off-kilter gate with a screech of protesting metal and entered the tunnel, human eyes scanning anxiously for clues where vampire vision had found nothing. Spike knew that his own failure to find anything showed clearly and Xander’s face hardened. “Ok, we split up and each take a direction. One of us will find them.”

“There’s another way.” Tara dropped down the ladder and joined them, Dawn following closely behind. “I can track Willow magically.”

Xander’s expression cleared. “Thank god. What do you need?”

“Nothing.”

Tara closed her eyes, holding her hands up and out, the thumb and fingers of each hand touching in a gesture that was somehow ageless and meditative. She spoke and, despite the quiet, almost conversational tone, Spike could feel the power in her voice, like the far-off smell of an approaching electrical storm: “Aradia, Goddess of the lost, hear my words. Grant me your aid and show me the path of the lost one.” 

A spark lit and hovered in front of her for a moment, looking remarkably like an oversized firefly as it circled her, then darted away down the tunnel. “The light will guide us to her,” Tara told them, already starting down the tunnel after the brightly glowing light.

Xander caught her arm, stopping her. “Tara, we need more weapons than none. It’ll only take a second.” He peered after the spark anxiously as it disappeared around the curve of the tunnel. “Can you make it wait for a minute?”

A quick gesture from Tara had the spark obediently reappearing around the corner, where it hovered jerkily, almost seeming impatient as it waited for them.

“Give me three minutes,” Xander said, turning back towards the shop. He urged Dawn before him, shepherding her firmly up the ladder despite her protests.

Spike looked at Tara. “Should stay behind with Dawn, Tara. You’re not a fighter.”

Tara met his eyes stubbornly. “I’m going. It’s Willow,” she said simply. 

“Getting yourself killed’s not going to help her much.” He gestured towards the animated light. “Done your bit, Glinda. Should leave the rescuing to Xander and me.” He had his doubts about whether this was a rescue mission or not but he kept silent about that. If the witch was blabbing to Glory about Dawn, he’d kill her without batting an eye. For Tara’s sake, he’d prefer not to do that in front of her.

“And what if Glory has counter-magicks set up?” Tara asked. “I may need to renew the spell or try a new one. I’m going.”

Spike had spent too much time with Angelus not to know an immovable rock when he saw one. Hopefully Xander was having more luck with Dawn than he was with Tara.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m going with you.” Dawn said. She planted her feet and squared herself for an argument, looking determined and so scared it broke Xander‘s heart.

“Dawn, I need you to stay here.” He held up a hand to cut off her protest. “We don’t have time to argue about this. Call Buffy and Giles and tell them what’s happened. Get them headed this way and tell them we’ll call as soon as we come up from the tunnels.” He had no doubt the trail would lead above-ground, there was no way that Glory was living in the sewers, not with her penchant for designer dresses and strappy sandals. 

“Then call your mom and have her come pick you up right now.” He fished his keys out of his pocket and tossed them to her, before grabbing two axes from the weapons chest. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled a baseball bat out as well. “The two of you go to the mansion and stay there until you hear from us.” Dawn still looked rebellious and he forced himself to take the time to explain. “It’s important, Dawn. You and your mom need to be somewhere that Glory can’t find you. We don’t know why she’s taken Willow or what’s happening.” If Glory was trying to torture the Key’s location out of Willow… 

He forced himself not to think about it. Not to think about what godlike strength could do to fragile human flesh. “I know you want to help Willow, but the most important thing you can do is stay safe. If Glory gets ahold of you, the world ends. More than anything, Willow wouldn’t want that.” And if Glory learned that Dawn was the Key, the house was the first place she’d look. The mansion should be safe since no-one else knew of its existence. “Dawn? I’m counting on you. We need Buffy and Giles for backup and we can’t risk you anywhere near Glory. Ok?”

She nodded reluctantly, looking scared and a little relieved and worried sick. He smiled and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, then pushed her gently towards the counter. “Make the calls.”

She started obediently for the counter and Xander ran back down the stairs to rejoin Spike and Tara.

~~~~~

He handed Spike a heavy battle-axe, keeping the smaller one for himself, and held the baseball bat out to Tara. She stared at it, then shook her head. 

“Tara, if you’re going with us, you need to have something to protect yourself with,” Xander told her. “I know you’re Wicca-girl, but sometimes the enemy doesn’t give you time to do a spell. Hit them with that and it buys you time.” Well, it would buy her time against the minions. Glory would just laugh.

“I can’t,” she said, looking up at him and shaking her head. “It’s not how I defend myself.”

Xander exchanged a quick look with Spike, who just shrugged. It wasn’t likely Tara would be able to do any damage anyway, he admitted, none of the rest of them could, so he supposed it didn’t really matter. They’d just have to protect her somehow.

“Let’s go,” he said, setting off in the direction the spark was hovering, bobbing up and down impatiently as it waited for them. “Dawn’s calling Buffy and Giles and telling them to stand by. We’ll give them our position as soon as we know it ourselves.”

Tara was at his heels immediately and Spike shook his head but didn’t say anything else. He couldn’t argue with her right to rescue or revenge her girlfriend, but unless she had some serious magic up her sleeve, he didn’t see how she was going to survive an encounter with Glory.

~~~~~

The spark lead them through the sewers for less than a mile, then darted up to the surface through an access shaft. The three of them climbed the ladder and came out in the middle of a grassy expanse.

“This is Wilkins Park, isn’t it?” Xander said, looking around. “Big surprise. Figures Glory would be in the high rent district.”

Spike wasn’t that familiar with the area. Too many street lights and private security guards meant that demons generally avoided the area, so it wasn’t on his regular patrol schedule. Xander was already on the phone, passing the word on to Buffy and Rupert, and Tara set off across the grass, her eyes fixed on the spark of magic she’d called to guide them. Gripping his ax, Spike followed her.

Xander jogged to catch up. “They’ll be here in a minute. They’re in Giles’ car,” he told them.

They crossed the park, their eyes drawn inevitably to the expensive apartment building lining the street facing the park, watching as the flickering light headed straight for one of them. An old building from the ‘20’s with an art deco look to it.

The sound of a racing engine filled the gentile quiet of the neighborhood and Spike rolled his eyes. As Rupert’s convertible raced up and Buffy leapt out of the passenger seat, he said: “Subtle entrance.”

She scowled at him. “Which building?”

Xander gestured towards the art deco building and Rupert joined them, a tire iron snatched from the trunk in his hands. 

“Let’s go,” he said grimly.

~~~~~~~~

Buffy’s kick shattered the door jamb and sent the heavy mahogany door flying open to smash into the wall. She was through an instant later, Spike moving with her, with Tara, Xander and Giles at their heels.

The door opened onto an enormous room, something that looked more like a stage setting than someone’s apartment. An obscenely large living room, luxuriously furnished with plush wall-to-wall carpeting, elegant furniture, and a hellgod descending a curving flight of marble stairs. Like every other time he’d seen her, Glory was wearing a slinky silk dress, this one red with black embroidery, and high-heeled sandals, which made the three scabby minions trailing her down the steps look even shabbier and more out of place than usual.

She laughed as she saw them. “Well, if it isn’t Mousy the Vampire Slayer and her little gang of misfits. How cute.”

The minions abandoned ship, scrambling back up the stairs to the second floor while Glory stepped down into the living room. 

“Here to rescue the witch? You’re a bit late. That story about her just arriving from England fooled those worthless minions of mine. Turns out, she’s just a human after all. Still, she wasn’t completely useless.” Glory smiled almost giddily, like someone who’d been drinking spiked punch. “What a mind she had. I’m still a little buzzed from eating her.”

Tara made an anguished sound, like someone had snatched all the air from her lungs and Xander felt like an iron fist was squeezing his heart. They were too late. Too late to save Willow. Too late for anything but revenge. Forgetting everything but the anger inside him, Xander leapt forward, his ax swinging in a vicious arc of shining metal, slicing through the air as he swung it at Glory with all his strength. It hit hard, jarring his arms and tearing her dress.

“Hey!” she snapped, and grabbed the axe before he could pull it back, snatching it out of his grip with effortless strength and backhanding him so hard he flew across the room, landing on a glass-topped table near a couch. The thick glass shattered under the impact, sending him sprawling to the ground in a shower of broken glass, the force of the blow leaving him stunned and barely clinging to consciousness.

He vaguely heard Spike’s roar of rage and then the sound of flesh impacting on flesh, followed by the crash of a body and wood splintering. Fear cut through his daze and he struggled to sit up, wincing as glass cut into his palms and dug through the fabric of his jeans, blinking hard to clear his blurry vision. On the far side of the room, a door had been smashed open under the impact of a body and Spike was staggering to his feet, preparing to return to the fray.

Buffy had closed with Glory, fighting in grim, furious silence without any of her usual quips‘ a rapid flurry of punches and kicks that were keeping Glory off balance, even though they obviously weren’t doing any damage. Giles was circling around the two, holding the tire iron ready, waiting for an opening to attack without risking hitting Buffy by mistake.

“Is this the best you can do, Mousy?” Glory was saying, her voice as calm as if she wasn’t in the middle of a fight. “I may have missed the mark with the little witch, but it’s only a matter of time. The Key’s hidden away in a flesh wrapper. I’ll find it if I have to rip through every human in this pathetic little town. But I suspect that it won’t take that long. How about I just start with your friends?” 

She threw a punch that caught Buffy square in the face, knocking her across the room. As she did, Giles brought the tire iron around in a deadly arc, hitting Glory on the back of the head with enough force that it should have caved her skull in. Being Glory, it did nothing but piss her off.

“Watch the hair!” she snapped and grabbed the tire iron away from him with her right hand, backhanding Giles with her left in the same movement, sending him flying away from her. He crashed into Buffy, who was just getting to her feet and both of them crashed to the floor in an ungraceful tangle of limbs.

Glory spun around, the tire iron poised to throw like a javelin, just as Spike flung himself back into the fight, using the stair railing as a fulcrum to launch a powerful two-footed kick. His boots landed squarely in her stomach, the impact throwing her backwards and causing her to drop the tire iron. She slammed into the fireplace with such force the bricks crumbled into dust, and the sculptures on the mantle piece fell to the floor with the crash of breaking stone. Spike was knocked off his feet from the force of his own blow, and he bounced back up an instant later, pivoting on one foot, bringing his leg around in a vicious spin-kick aimed at the fallen hellgod’s head. Glory was already on her feet, moving with impossible speed. She grabbed his boot in mid-air before the kick could land and twisted, using his own momentum against him, tossing him across the room with that terrifying, effortless strength. Spike flipped in the air and landed on his feet with cat-like grace just as Glory snatched up a marble-topped end table and threw it at him. 

The small table smashed into Spike before he could duck, and the force of the impact sent him to the floor in a crash of broken wood and marble. 

Glory ignored the mess, just as she ignored Buffy and Giles scrambling back to their feet, turning to face Xander with a gloating smile. 

“You. You’ve caused me more trouble than any human ever has. Took my monk, killed my snake. Let’s just find out if you’re my Key.” 

She strode towards him purposely and Xander backed away from her rapidly, looking around wildly for anything he could use for a weapon. His back smacked into the wall behind him, stopping his retreat, and he braced himself for the hopeless effort of fighting her off.

Spike roared with fury, throwing himself at Glory with reckless disregard of the danger. She backhanded him away without even turning to face him, sending him hurtling across the room again as she continued stalking towards Xander.

Buffy was charging towards them, but Xander could see she wouldn’t reach him in time and he grabbed a floor lamp, swinging it wildly at Glory who just laughed and tore it from his grip.

“Skutatori!” a voice shouted and Glory’s reaching hands hit an invisible barrier barely a foot from Xander’s face. 

He looked up in shock and saw Tara standing at the top of the stairs, one arm around Willow, the other outstretched towards him. Willow looked dazed and barely conscious and Tara was having trouble keeping her upright. He snapped his attention back to Glory as she cursed and threw a punch at him. The air in front of him rippled like water, stopping the blow before it reached him. Glory snarled and threw another punch and this one went straight through the barrier, her fist smashing into the wall beside his head as he ducked barely in time, flakes of plaster covering both of them as her fist buried itself halfway to the elbow in the wall. He scrambled away as she yanked her arm free, the brief delay giving Buffy and Spike time to converge on her from behind.

Xander took the stairs three at a time as Glory was distracted by Buffy kicking her in the face and Spike punching her in the kidney. He took Willow from Tara, sweeping her into his arms, then turned immediately to run back down the staircase, intent on nothing but retreat. Tara followed him, pausing at the foot of the stairs as he dodged around the three-way fight in the center of the room, heading for the door. 

“Secerno Secrevii!”

Glory, Buffy and Spike were pushed back away from each other by an invisible force and Glory laughed contemptuously. “Is that the best you can do? The other witch had a lot more power than these pathetic tricks.”

Tara spoke again in that powerful voice, so unlike her usual quiet speech: “Tenere!” She flung out one hand in Glory’s direction.

Glory snarled as the air thickened around her, holding her in place. She struggled to move and Xander could see that this spell wasn’t going to hold long either. Buffy and Spike looked like they wanted to attack her again while she was caught up in the spell but behind them, Tara’s knees had buckled and she was clinging to the banister, her face white, looking like she was close to passing out. Giles hurried over to her.

“Let’s go!” Xander shouted, pausing in the doorway long enough to see Giles throw an arm around Tara and pull her towards the door. Buffy and Spike retreated after them, keeping a wary eye on Glory, and Xander turned and ran for the stairs down to the ground floor, Willow was muttering to herself and Xander’s heart ached as he realized the words made no sense at all. Her body was feather-light in his arms as he crossed the lobby, hearing the reassuring clatter of the others’ feet on the stairs behind him as he shouldered the outside door open and ran out into the welcome, sheltering darkness outside.

“This isn’t over!” Glory shouted, the words echoing through the lobby after them.

~~~~~~~~~

Once more they were in ignominious retreat from Glory. Barely staggering away with injuries to every one of their party and nothing to show for their efforts. Glory didn’t have so much as a scratch on her and Spike was getting fucking tired of throwing everything they had at her and having it not just be not enough, but be completely useless. 

Xander’s hands were bleeding, dozens of cuts from broken glass covering his palms. The Slayer had a beauty of a shiner puffing up one side of her face, one that wasn’t going to heal overnight, even with Slayer healing. The Watcher was limping heavily, helping Glinda who, though barely able to stand, had kept trying to talk to the witch still cradled in Xander’s arms, all the way to the Watcher’s car. Spike himself was going to be sporting a set of bruises on his back and shoulders for at least a day or two.

It wasn’t that he minded getting injured. Having Xander to fuss over him and tend his wounds, a process that often turned into slow gentle lovemaking, was one of the joys of their relationship. No one else in his unlife had ever worried about him and fretted over minor injuries like his boy did. It was just that he was used to having something to show for his injuries - mostly the beaten bloody pulp of his opponent. How many fights had they had with Glory now? The biggest score they had against her was one broken shoe. It was downright embarrassing. 

They’d all piled into Rupert’s car. It was a tight fit, but no one complained, everyone looking shell-shocked from the fight, or, in the humans’ case, from the witch’s condition.

They’d rescued the witch, but it had been a wasted effort. She’d be better off if they strangled her where she sat, babbling nonsense and flinching away from sudden noises. There was a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth and one cheek was swollen and discolored, but other than that, she appeared fine - physically. Mentally, she’d gone ‘round the twist, like all of Glory’s other brain-sucked victims.

They were well and truly screwed now. Glory knew the Key was human. Much as he’d like to lay that piece of luck on the witch, he had to admit that if Glory had gotten that much out of her, it was likely that she would have told Glory that Dawn was the Key. Since Glory had admitted she didn’t know who it was yet, most likely she’d gotten the information about the Key being human from someone else. Probably that Knight she’d brain sucked.

“What happened back there, Glinda?” he asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over everyone but the witch. Tara was the only one of them without physical injuries and he didn’t understand why she’d collapsed.

Tara looked up from the witch, who was seated on her lap, and who she’d been crooning reassurances to as the motion of the car made her struggle and cry out, trying to pull free.

“Willow and I have been practicing protection spells,” she explained, her voice showing the same fatigue as her white face. “It was a bit more power than I’m used to using. I don’t usually do unbased magicks.”

“Unbased?”

“It means spells that are drawn entirely from your own life-force,” Giles explained over his shoulder, his tone disapproving. “It can be very dangerous. Witches have died from doing that kind of magic, using up so much energy that their body’s can’t take it. It’s the reason witches often work in groups, to spread the power drain.”

“Not that we’re not incredibly grateful, Tara,” Xander told her, looking up from where he was awkwardly wrapping the strip of cloth Spike had given him around his hands as a makeshift bandage. Far too much of Xander’s blood was staining the witch’s clothing from where he’d carried her to the car, ignoring his own injuries. “I’d be…” his gaze flickered to the witch and he didn’t finish his sentence but they all knew what he’d meant. He’d be dead or brain-sucked if it hadn’t been for Tara.

“Not going to forget it, Glinda,” Spike told her gruffly.

Buffy snapped her cell phone closed. “Mom and Dawn are fine. They’re waiting for us at the mansion.” She looked at Willow, her eyes filling with tears and ran a gentle hand down her hair. “Maybe we should take her to the hospital.”

“No,” Tara said instantly. “They can’t do anything for her there. They’ll just strap her to a bed and give her drugs to keep her quiet.” She rested her head against Willow’s, her own eyes red-rimmed. “I’ll take care of her. I’m going to find a way to fix this.”

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence before Rupert cleared his throat. “We’ll all do everything we can,” he told Tara.

Spike suspected he was trying to be reassuring but the doubt in his voice gave him away. Tara pulled Willow closer to her, as if she could shield her from anything bad just by willing it not to happen.


	34. Chapter 34

Spike prowled the mansion restlessly, unable to settle down beside Xander, who’d long since fallen asleep. There were too many humans present, scattered around the mansion, and he wasn’t used to the sound of so many humans sleeping nearby: the deep, regular breathing that filled the quiet rooms, the creak of mattress springs as someone shifted position, the steady thrum of resting heartbeats all around him.

Well, not so much unused to the sounds of sleeping humans as unused to not stealing from room to room, bed to bed, behind Drusilla, as his Dark Princess trailed feather-light fingers over each innocently sleeping figure while she debated which ones to kill and which to pass over, survivors who would wake to horror in the morning. The game had been a particular favorite of hers, one he had joined in readily to please her, ignoring his own preference for violence and terror.

The sound of soft weeping and a low murmur of comforting words were the only disruption in the stillness of the mansion. Even the witch had been drugged into quiet. The chaos mage had arrived, called by Rupert, with a bottle of sleeping pills nicked from somewhere, which had brought blessed silence to the girl’s random, disjointed comments and occasional struggles which had left everyone else distraught, regardless of how easily subdued she was.

Padding silently towards the sound, Spike found himself outside the door to Tara and Willow’s room. He wasn’t surprised to overhear Joyce’s quiet tones but that Glinda’s was the muffled, heartbroken sobbing came as a shock. Tara had been a rock since they’d arrived at the mansion. While everyone else had fallen apart, grieving over the witch’s lost mind, Tara had simply set about doing what needed to be done; getting the witch settled and fed, talking to her softly in soothing tones, explaining everything she was doing as if to a child. Certainly the witch had responded to her better than to anyone else, and Tara had rewarded her with a hug and a genuine smile when Willow had spoken her name.

Of course, she had immediately followed it with a burst of gibberish, and Spike shook his head, still thinking the witch would be better off dead. Not because of his own long-standing hatred of her. He couldn’t really muster his usual rancor right now - it was a waste of time when she no more understood why he still despised her than a lump of dirt would. No, demons didn’t waste their time on useless, helpless creatures the way humans did. The helpless either died or were killed. Made things simple. 

Not that he intended telling any of them that. All of them were clinging to the hope that they could somehow fix what was irretrievably broken, ignoring the inconvenient fact that no one had been able to “fix” any of the other loonies Glory was leaving strewn in her wake.

Still…, watching Tara with Willow earlier tonight, Spike had been uncomfortably reminded of Drusilla’s last days and weeks, when he had tried so hard to coax her to eat, to talk to him, to acknowledge his presence as he held her in his arms, determined in the face of all evidence to the contrary that he would find a way to save her. None of it had done any good and Dru had wasted away to dust. It made a part of him ache for Tara. She was a rarity, a truly good person, and she didn’t deserve the heartache awaiting her.

He slipped away, as silently as he had come, leaving Joyce to comfort Tara. Joyce had taken charge of them as they’d stumbled through the door of the mansion after yet another useless fight with Glory; assigning rooms and tasks as calmly as if they were merely settling in to a vacation home and not fleeing from a hellgod intent on killing them all. Xander had prepared the mansion weeks ago in case they needed it, filling the freezer with frozen dinners and blood bags, buying sleeping bags and air mattresses enough for all of them and laying in a supply of weapons borrowed from the magic shop. 

The mundane activity of getting settled into the mansion had calmed the humans - all except Dawn. Dawn had fled to the furthest reaches of the garden upon seeing the witch, sobs shaking her entire body, and nothing her mother and sister had said had helped. In the end, it was Tara who had successfully coaxed Dawn back into the house, quietly asking for her help in caring for the witch. Somehow that had gotten through to Dawn, where all her mother and sister’s reassurances hadn’t. As the evening progressed, Dawn had seemed to find comfort in helping to feed and tend to what was left of the witch.

When Willow had finally been drugged into blessed unconsciousness, the rest of them had held a council of war, gathering around the folding table Xander had set up in the dining room. The smell of despair and fear in the room had nearly overwhelmed Spike, although they had all done their best to put on a brave face. Dawn had joined them, pulling up a chair defiantly as if it was her right, and even Buffy had recognized that it was too late to try and shelter her sister from the gathering storm, accepting Dawn’s arrival with a resigned sigh and continued arguing with the others about the best course of action.

Buffy had insisted they all leave town. Now. Tonight. No looking back. Just make a run for it and hope for the best. Try and stay ahead of Glory and hope they managed to outwait her deadline to use the Key.

“We can’t fight her,” she repeated. “Now that she knows the Key is human, she’s going to be coming after all of us until she finds out who the Key is.”

“Buffy, we’ve talked about this,” Giles told her. “We would be more vulnerable on the road and without the resources we have here. If we’re careful, it should be a good long while before anyone learns where we are staying. I’ll close the Magic Box and Joyce will take a leave of absence from the gallery and we wait it out. We know Glory has only a certain amount of time to act, it won’t be forever. And far better here than on the road, where we may have to make a stand where fate and Glory finds us. At least here, we can choose our ground.”

“And there’s still the risk that it’s the Hellmouth that is powering the spells that are hiding Dawn from Glory,” Joyce reminded her. “We can’t leave town unless we know for sure that leaving won’t expose Dawn as the Key.”

“Any chance Tara can do that spell again?” Buffy asked, glancing somewhat guiltily in the direction of Tara and Willow’s room. Tara was the only one of them not at the table, having chosen to stay with Willow. “The one to see other spells? Maybe that would let her see what’s powering the spells on Dawn.”

“Unlikely,” Ethan answered crisply. “That spell is just to reveal the presence of magic, not trace it back to its source. If you are expecting to find a little trail of sparks between your sister and the hellmouth, well, you’re as ignorant of magic as you have always appeared to be.” He just smirked at Buffy’s scowl.

“At the very least, we need to wait until tomorrow,” Xander reminded them. “Mr. Olsen called that meeting, remember?” He looked around the circle of blank faces and realized that he hadn’t had a chance to tell anyone about Mr. Olsen’s call. Everything else had been forgotten in the rush that followed learning of Willow’s disappearance. Now, belatedly, he relayed the message that the demon community wanted to get together with them for a strategy meeting.

“Bloody good,” Giles muttered, obviously relieved to see Buffy derailed from her brilliant strategy of run away with her tail between her legs. “Let’s hope that they’ve been able to come up with some ideas for fighting Glory,” Giles said hopefully. 

“That would be nice,” Buffy said gloomily. “Because we’ve got nothing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike led his party into the deserted building well ahead of the scheduled meeting time. Mr. Olsen had called with a last minute change in plans for the location, mentioning that there would be a few more people there from the demon community. Xander had been relieved by the call, saying that Mr. Olsen had been much less cryptic, more like his usual self, but Spike was concerned by the change in location and numbers and wanted to get there first.

The office building was deserted, save for a security guard who had obviously been expecting them and whom Xander and Giles both recognized. The man had a Lyrr’chrrn’tkk grandfather and had been one of the volunteers who had participated in the vessel spell they’d used against Adam, sitting home with his family and meditating, contributing their tiny bit of power to the greater whole the witches had been weaving.

“Mr. Myers, how are you doing?” 

The tall, solidly built man came out from behind the security desk to shake hands. “Can’t complain. Mr. Giles, Xander, it’s good to see you.” He nodded affably enough to Spike and Buffy but didn’t offer to shake their hands. Spike ignored him, moving to check out the security monitors behind the desk, while Buffy folded her arms, giving off suspicious Slayer vibes as her eyes swept the lobby. 

The guard saw Spike checking out the monitors and told them: “You’re the first to arrive. The rest should be here shortly.”

“Are you joining us?” Rupert asked in surprise.

“Nope, I just volunteered my building. No one’s here and I’ll make sure you guys aren’t disturbed.” He winked. “Already chased everyone else out of the building tonight. Seems we got a late notice that the building manager was spraying for cockroaches.” He grinned conspiratorially at them. “Go on up. Conference room on the fourth floor’s open. Go left as you get off the elevator.”

~~~~~

The conference room was large enough to hold over a dozen people and Spike began to wonder just how many demons were showing up for this little meeting. He slid into the chair at the head of the table, beating the Slayer to it, and signaled for Xander to take the chair to his right. Buffy took the seat on his left with Rupert sitting down on her other side and all of them waited with varying degrees of patience for the others to show. 

They didn’t have to wait for long. The elevator bell chimed in the hallway, followed by the muffled sound of footsteps on carpet and seven demons and demon hybrids filed into the room. 

Unlike the others, Spike recognized all of them. Four of them were among the demons who’d served as delegates to his Court. The first two were Jhaan demons, a hive species with no individual identities. They hadn’t returned to the Court since the first time the peaceful demons had approached him officially and Spike had always suspected they’d been chosen for that first meeting because their species had the ability to communicate telepathically with others of their kind. His eyes narrowed now, as he considered the implications of them being here. What was it about this meeting that made the local demons feel that they needed the ability to be instantly warned of trouble?

The other two had been the only two demons that had come to his Court with every delegation. Tiirpok, the incredibly powerful Inajii demon and Frergyrd, the half Nik’tashen. They made an odd couple, the tall, powerfully built woman with her fall of waist-length red hair, and the small, slender man whose half-bald pate barely reached her shoulder. Spike wasn’t fooled though. Despite his frail appearance, the Inajii would give the Slayer a run for her money in a fight and Spike himself wouldn’t want to mix it up with him without a good reason. As for the woman, despite a more than passing resemblance to old lithographs of Celtic warrior princesses, she wasn’t much of a fighter, instead, she had an intellect that rivaled Rupert’s. Both could pass for human and had human names, which Spike hadn’t bothered to learn.

The four were accompanied by Mr. Olsen, Sgt. Morgan and Mr. Okolo, all of whom looked relaxed and unworried, greeting them cheerfully enough. Xander stood to greet them, leaning across the table to shake hands and Mr. Olsen murmured something to him that Spike couldn’t quite make out but which sounded reassuring.

Spike simply gave them all a shallow nod, his face impassive. Buffy was watching the demons warily, while the Watcher was surreptitiously studying the two Jhaan demons - either trying to identify their species, or just curious about the reclusive hive demons. It was unlikely he’d ever seen one before, since they rarely interacted with anything but their own kind.

The demons spread out around the conference table, and took their seats, except for Tiirpok, who remained standing, taking charge of the meeting. His voice was a smooth, rich tenor, not the elderly quaver the Slayer at least had clearly been expecting. From his place at the other end of the table, he looked at the three humans at the table. “I am Tiirpok, also known as Terrance Johnson. My companion is Frergyrd, sometimes called Gwen Masters. These two are Jhaan demons, who do not have individual names. All of us have served as delegates to Master Spike’s Court from the community of peaceful demons here in town.” He indicated the other three members of the community. “I believe you are all acquainted with our colleagues.”

The Watcher’s eyes brightened with interest as he studied the demons. “Yes, indeed,” he murmured. “I am Rupert Giles, Watcher for Buffy Summers, the Slayer.” Buffy lifted a hand in greeting, smiling tentatively, although Spike could see the tension in her body. By profession, the Slayer was not automatically comfortable with meeting unknown demons for the first time, and she was still shaken by what Glory had done to the redhead. “Spike you all know, of course, and Xander Harris, his Claimed human.” 

Spike slid Rupert a sideways glance at that, taking his eyes off the demons for the first time, pleased that Rupert has so easily acknowledged his Claim. Mostly, Xander’s status made the humans uncomfortable and they rarely referred to it. He pulled his attention back to the meeting as Tiirpok spoke again.

“We are aware of the situation with Glorificus,” the Inajii was saying, “and we believe we have something that we can contribute to the coming battle.”

Buffy straightened, shedding her wariness at the prospect of useful help. “What is it? Because frankly, we’re pretty much spinning our wheels trying to figure out how to fight her.”

“It is not a weapon, per se,” Frergyrd told her. “And it is useable by only one of us here.” Her gaze went to Spike as she continued. “We are in possession of the Gem of Amara.”

Spike felt a surge of irritation go through him: as if they didn’t have enough problems already without this poppycock. He saw Rupert’s eyebrows shoot upwards in astonishment while Xander and Buffy just looked puzzled, although Xander looked like he was mentally snapping his fingers, trying to recall where he’d heard the name before. 

Before any of the humans could speak, Spike scowled at the two demons. “Are you out of your fucking minds?” he asked rudely. “The Gem of Amara’s a myth. It’s no more real than the bloody tooth fairy.”

The demons just looked amused. Mr. Okolo answered, speaking for the first time. “Not only is the Gem real, it is here in Sunnydale,”

“Forgive me, but are you sure?” Rupert interjected. “Like Spike, I was under the impression the Gem of Amara was a myth.” 

“What’s the Gem of Amara?” Buffy asked impatiently, “and why is Spike the only one who can use it?” Spike smirked, hearing the thread of envy in her voice at the thought of Spike having a weapon she didn’t get. He firmly squelched the flicker of excitement inside him at the confirmation by Mr. Okolo. He’d believe in the Gem when he was holding it in his hand and standing out in the midday sun. Still… if anyone was in a position to know if the Gem was real or not, it would be the nearly immortal Teer’ah demon.

“The Gem of Amara is the vampire equivalent of the Holy Grail,” Rupert told her. “It’s supposedly the source of some tremendous power, but I don’t believe I’ve ever found any description of exactly what that power is supposed to be.”

“The Gem of Amara makes the vampire who wears it invulnerable,” Tiirpok told them. 

Xander’s hand closed convulsively on Spike’s arm and Spike could hear his heartbeat accelerate.

“Invulnerable as in…?” Buffy asked.

“As in unable to be killed,” the Inajii answered. “A vampire wearing the Gem can stand outside in the full light of the sun and not be burned. They cannot be killed, not even by beheading. They are invulnerable.”

Xander was staring at Spike, looking like a kid on Christmas morning. “Invulnerable, Spike,” he whispered. “You’d be invulnerable,” he repeated, as if he liked the sound of the word on his lips. His smile was slowly widening until his entire face was glowing and Spike returned the smile, despite his own skepticism. Xander’s joy at the thought of him being immune from harm was touching.

“Like to walk with you in the sun, luv,” he breathed in his Claimed’s ear, for Xander’s hearing alone.

“Where is it?” Xander asked eagerly, looking across the table at the demons.

“Hold on, this is a lot to swallow. We need to talk about this.” Buffy looked apologetic but determined.

“Yes, I’m afraid I agree,” Giles said, removing his glasses and polishing them in his familiar stall as he spoke. “Spike has proven himself reliable but absolute power is a great deal of temptation to trust anyone with.”

Xander bristled defensively. “Excuse me, I didn’t hear anything about absolute power. I just heard invulnerable. Nobody’s said that Spike will get stronger than he already is, or won’t feel pain, or anything like that.” 

“Xander, knowing he’s invulnerable…”

Xander cut Giles off before he could finish. “He’s already immortal. This would just mean that his immortality couldn’t be cut short.”

“You’re being deliberately naïve, Xander.” Giles told him. “There is in fact a great deal of difference between the possibility of immortality and the certainty of it. Fear of death keeps us all in check, not just vampires.”

“Already dead,” Spike couldn’t help pointing out.

“You know what he meant,” Buffy said, exasperated. “Spike, I trust you, but with something like that… you’d be unstoppable.”

“Isn’t that the point? I don’t think they’re offering him the Gem because it’s a get out of jail free card for final death,” Xander answered her, nodding in the direction of the silently watching demons. “We need someone who can go toe-to-toe with a god without being killed. Who can keep a fight going for long enough to do some good. And while the Gem means that Spike will survive the fight, my guess is he’s going to suffer plenty during the course of it.”

Frergyrd cleared her throat. “If I might interrupt - Mr. Harris is correct. The Gem carries a heavy price: in exchange for it, we require that Master Spike fight this battle for us.” Her gaze swept around the table at all of them, human and demon alike, before coming to rest on Spike. “This was not a decision we reached lightly. We have debated it amongst ourselves for some time and have only now been able to reach a consensus. Of those who know of the Gem’s existence, there have always been some who favored its destruction and others who preferred preserving it in case of dire need. It is our decision that the present circumstances are such that the time has come to reveal the Gem’s location.”

“How come you’re just telling us about it now?” Xander asked, his tone curious not hostile. “It would have come in really handy against Adam.”

“The threat posed by Glory is greater than that posed by the Initiative,” Sergeant Morgan told him. “Glory has the potential to destroy the entire world, which Adam did not. Last year, there were among us individuals who remained unwilling to reveal the location of the Gem. And it has always been our agreement that the Gem’s existence would only be revealed by unanimous consent.”

“So, you’re saying that you’d rather the whole town be wiped out in a demon war than trust a vampire with the Gem?” Spike asked, one eyebrow raised sardonically.

“Yes,” Tiirpok answered flatly. “A vampire with the Gem could lay waste to a great deal more than this town alone.”

Tiirpok stood, sweeping them all with a stern glance. “The decision has been made. We have debated all of these issues and many more, for generations. This is the first time that we have reached a consensus that the peril is grave enough to warrant utilizing the Gem.”

“You know, Spike isn’t the only candidate,” Buffy hesitated, then continued almost apologetically. “We could give the Gem to Angel.” She didn’t actually add the words “he has a soul” but she might as well have, so loudly did they sound in the room.

Xander rolled his eyes. “Right. Because Angel’s been such a model of stability lately. According to Wesley, he’s so obsessed with killing Darla that he’s gone completely off the deep end. He fired Wes, Cordy and Doyle and they’re on their own now, trying to do Angel’s job for him.”

Buffy frowned and Xander realized she hadn’t been keeping up with the news from Los Angeles. She had a tendency to avoid discussions of Angel and his crew because of the lingering emotions from their one-time relationship.

Giles cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I agree with Xander, Buffy. Angel is simply not an option at this point in time. From what Wesley has reported, Angel’s been acting suspiciously like Angelus recently.”

“Master Spike is our choice,” Tiirpok repeated flatly. “We will not give the Gem to Angel. We are in contact with the demon community in Los Angeles. There is an anagogic demon who has read Angel several times recently. Angel is refusing to listen to guidance or counsel from anyone and has ignored a number of attempts by others to set him back on his true path. We will not trust him with the power of the Gem.”

Even Buffy recognized that that was the end of the discussion for the demons. She nodded, accepting their judgment.

“What are you asking for?” Spike said casually, like none of this mattered, ignoring his own rising excitement at the prospect that the Gem of Amara was actually real.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mr. Olsen stopped him briefly on their way out the door. “Xander, I apologize for not giving you advance notice about what we were proposing.” His faded blue eyes held a world of apology, obviously remembering the way the coven had sprung the idea of the vessel spell on him last year. “I promised that I wouldn’t mention the Gem in any way before this meeting.” He smiled ruefully. “I think Spike should have been entrusted with the Gem last year. But others felt that, with the coven arriving to help that it wasn’t necessary.” He spread his hands apologetically. “Too many demons simply do not trust vampires, and the idea of a vampire that can’t be killed frightens them silly, I’m afraid.”

“It’s alright,” Xander assured him. Even the worry over how this was going to play out over the next days and weeks wasn’t enough to stop the giddy happiness bubbling up inside him. Spike was going to be invulnerable, that was all that really mattered.

Mr. Olsen smiled, perhaps recognizing that Xander needed to be alone with Spike right now. “We’ll talk soon,” he promised.

Xander smiled at him and hurried out after the others. “Guys, we’re going to go home tonight,” Xander told them, putting an arm around Spike’s waist. “Pick up a few changes of clothes, that kind of thing.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Giles asked.

“Glory doesn’t know about the Court,” Spike told him. “She’s not interested in the power structure here in town. Doesn’t play well with others, that one.”

“Don’t worry, Giles, we’ll be fine. I’m going to call my boss and take a leave of absence and we’ll rejoin you at the mansion tomorrow. I’ll bring some more supplies in.”

“Xander, you heard what Glory said. She wanted to brain-suck you first,” Buffy reminded him.

“We’ll be careful,” he assured her, repressing his impatience to be gone with an effort. He loved them, but he really needed to be alone with his vampire right now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They barely made it through the door of the apartment before Xander launched himself at Spike, shoving him up against the kitchen cabinets and kissing him hungrily. Spike let Xander have free rein, his lips parting under Xander’s, as Xander’s tongue plundered his mouth. Xander’s body pressed hard against his, his big hands cupping the back of Spike’s skull, holding him in place as their mouths and teeth clashed. Spike slid his arms around his boy’s strong body, cupping Xander’s arse and pulling them even closer together, loving the warmth and strength of his boy and the hardness he could feel between them, glorying in the fierceness of Xander’s kisses.

Xander dropped his hands to Spike’s chest, frantically tearing at his black t-shirt, before stepping back just long enough to yank the shirt off over Spike’s head. His warm, calloused hands caressed Spike’s chest and back, sliding over the cool, ivory skin before he ducked his head, mouthing and nipping at the flat brown nipples, quickly bringing them to aching peaks, while his fingers dug into the muscles of Spike’s back.

Spike arced his head back as arousal shivered through him. He tightened his grip on Xander, their hips moving in rhythm against each other, erections straining the denim of their jeans. Both of them were rapidly approaching climax and Spike reached up with one hand, burying it in Xander’s hair and pulling him up so their lips met again, kissing him hard as his hips moved more rapidly. 

He released his grip on the dark waves and yanked down the collar of Xander’s shirt, dropping his head to nuzzle and lick along the tanned skin, inhaling deeply, loving the mingled odors of sweat, arousal and his boy. Feeling his own orgasm approaching rapidly, he shifted to his true face and buried his fangs in his Claim mark, renewing the mark and tasting Xander’s pheromone-spiked blood even as they both exploded into orgasm.

~~~~~

Hours later, sprawled amid tangled, sweaty sheets, Xander was spent and sated, lying curled next to Spike, his body aching and thoroughly debauched from hours of lovemaking. He let out a contented sigh, one hand tracing over the clean lines of his lover’s chest.

“Invulnerable,” he repeated.

Spike chuckled, his chest moving slightly under Xander’s cheek as he did. “Believe you’ve said that before, luv.”

Xander mustered the strength to lift his head, looking into Spike’s blue eyes. He didn’t even care that he’d been repeating the word all night, even chanting it out loud as he’d arced in orgasm, crowing the word to the ceiling as he straddled his vampire, riding Spike’s cock and driving them both over the edge.

“Stop being such a skeptic,” he ordered. “You know Mr. Okolo would never have said anything unless he was sure it was the real deal. Same for Mr. Olsen and Sergeant Morgan.” He didn’t know the others well enough to say if they were the kind of people who would speak carelessly about something like the Gem without being sure, but those three he was sure of.

Spike made a non-committal sound and Xander shook his head in fond exasperation. “Just sayin’, I’ll want proof before I stroll outside in daylight wearing nothing but the Gem and a smile.”

Xander grinned lasciviously at the picture that brought to mind, but he was so tired his cock didn’t even give an interested twitch. “Might have to try that one day,” he said, settling down against Spike with a yawn. “We are so going to Hawaii once you have the Gem.”


	35. Chapter 35

From the slivers of light escaping through the blinds and lessening the darkness of the room, Xander could tell the sun was well up. He smiled to himself, not surprised he’d slept late after last night’s gymnastics.

For a long interval, he just lay there, feeling utterly content. Spike’s wiry frame was nestled behind him, one arm thrown around his waist possessively, holding him close even in sleep. With lazy detachment, he watched the dust motes suspended in the angled beam of light from the largest gap in the blinds. He’d never bothered to fix it since the light that spilled through fell high up on the wall and didn’t endanger Spike, and he liked having some sun in their home, lighting up the perpetually gloomy interior. Soon, he thought, they might be able to get rid of the heavy blinds and thick curtains, letting the morning sun fill the room, be able to see Spike’s pale skin lit up with the sun’s glow.

He couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up inside him at the image, wondering what Spike would look like after a day at the beach. Would his lover’s pale, cool skin become as sun-warm and darkly tanned as Xander’s own? Or would the Gem prevent even that harm from happening, leaving Spike with his ivory-colored perfection intact?

“Somethin’ funny, luv?” 

He turned and met Spike’s sleepy gaze. The vampire’s hair was tousled and his eyes heavy-lidded with the unnatural hour. No, even with the Gem, Spike would remain a nocturnal creature. He was a night predator, his entire existence adapted to darkness.   
Still, if Xander could take the occasional week off and lead an entirely nocturnal existence, Spike could do the same for him - take a vacation and spend a week in the sun with Xander. He knew Spike missed the sun. 

“Just wondering if you’ll freckle,” was all he said, surprising a laugh out of the vampire.

“Won’t take up sunbathin’ until I see if the thing’s real,” was Spike’s cynical answer.

“I know.”

Reluctantly, Xander untangled himself and rolled off the bed. He’d phoned his boss last night and told him he wouldn’t be able to come in to work for the rest of the week but he should pick up some additional supplies and weapons and return to the mansion. Last night had been pure indulgence, time out from the apocalypse. He didn’t feel even a smidgen of guilt, but it was time to remember their responsibilities. They needed to work on the plan for taking on Glory. As plans went, giving Spike the Gem and a good luck kiss before throwing him to the hellgod seemed a little sketchy.

“I need to check on the others, talk strategy,” he told Spike. “Join us after dark?”

“Got an errand to run first,” Spike said, shutting his eyes firmly. “Be there about midnight.”

“What errand?” Xander asked suspiciously. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The woods reeked of slaughter. 

The smell of blood hung heavily in the air, the metallic taste of it filled his senses, along with the fading scents of fear and pain and the stench of bodily wastes. Death had come and gone, leaving a crimson-splashed swath behind it, but this was no battlefield. Charnel house, more like.

Spike picked his way cautiously towards the clearing where the scents lingered most strongly, his senses stretched out, listening for any hint that anything remained alive in the woods around him. 

Emerging into the clearing, he looked around at the carnage with expert eyes. Something had swept through here, dealing death with pitiless hands, leaving nothing but scattered corpses behind. Bodies lying where they’d fallen in the sprawled indignity of death.

Glory. 

There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that Glory had done this. There was nothing else in town with the strength to kill this many people that wouldn’t have savaged the bodies after death with teeth and claws. 

Spike crouched down beside the closest body. The Knight had been left lying in the dirt, eyes staring up sightlessly at the night sky. The man’s head had been twisted nearly off, before he’d been dropped, limbs splayed, like a child’s broken toy abandoned on the damp ground. His sword was still in its sheath, less than half drawn. Death had taken the Knight almost unaware, too swift for him even to defend himself.

He rose to his feet and surveyed the Knight’s campsite, his eyes counting the scattered bodies. The campfires had long burned to ash and he estimated from the smell of rotting flesh that was beginning to permeate the air that the Knights had been killed sometime the previous day. 

Lighting a cigarette, he walked through the campsite, tallying the dead. Thirty-seven bodies in all, including two black-robed priest types. Question was, had Glory gotten them all?

The Knights of Byzantium were fanatics and Spike didn’t give a piss if they were dead. Made his job easier. He had not intended to leave them alive to threaten Dawn. He’d planned to bring the Court down on the camp to take care of the problem. Only reason he was here instead of the Court was because the minion keeping an eye on the camp hadn’t returned at sunrise as ordered. No doubt there was a scattering a dust somewhere in the wood to account for that disobedience.

Problem solved, hopefully. If there were any stragglers that had missed the massacre, his minions would find them and take care of them. 

He dropped his cigarette butt and spun on his heel. He’d return to the Court and set the minions hunting for any surviving Knights, make sure none of them lived to see another sunrise. 

He wouldn’t even have to lie to Xander and hadn’t had to break his promise to his boy since none of the Knights had died by his hand. The fact that he’d been prepared to kill them all, well, no reason for that to ever come up. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stepping into the mansion, Xander toned down the cheerful greeting he’d been about to give as Dawn looked up from her book with red-rimmed eyes that had nothing to do with too much reading and everything to do with blaming herself for things that weren’t her fault. Everyone else, even Ethan, was gathered around the table with books piled around them, in the midst of a full-blown research session. 

“What’s up, guys?” Xander asked. 

“We’re trying to find something that might help Willow,” Buffy answered, sitting back and stretching like she’d been bent over the books with unusual dedication. Buffy was never their best researcher but she was clearly doing the work this time.

“Any luck?” 

Giles glanced at Tara quickly, then shook his head. “Nothing yet. We’ve been trying to find a way to return what Glory took from Willow, but the problem is this isn’t really about restoring balance. Essentially, we hope to steal back what was stolen from Willow and that’s more dark magic than light. It could have unpredictable results.”

“Like…?” he asked, not liking the sound of that.

“Glory ‘feeds’ on mental energy. That implies that she is digesting what she takes, in some form or another. We cannot assume that Willow is her last victim. What if the spell takes the mental energy of a more recent victim? At best, it could result in an entirely new personality. At worst, mental breakdown and rejection of the restored energy, possibly death. And not just for Willow. Dark magic of that kind can affect the spell caster’s power, tainting their natural magic, perhaps permanently.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Xander said slowly.

Ethan gave him a withering look. “Bloody do-gooders. Always worrying about being contaminated by what’s already inside you,” he muttered.

“Fine, so what does the dark side of the Force have to offer?” Xander snapped back.

“For starters, not wasting our time trying to find a spell that will do what you want without getting your hands dirty.”

Giles’ face tightened but, before he could say anything, Tara asked: “Is there a way to do this by getting our hands dirty?”

Xander wasn’t sure who was the most shocked by her calm question. Tara met their eyes steadily. “If it will help Willow, I’m willing to take the risk.”

“Tara…” Giles began helplessly, but Ethan’s laughter cut him off.

“Bravo, little girl. We’ll bring you around to the chaos view of things in no time with that attitude.”

“God forbid,” Giles muttered, but didn’t say anything else as Ethan began enthusiastically outlining theories and possibilities. 

Xander and Buffy exchanged dubious looks, then Buffy just shook her head helplessly. They didn’t have the right to tell Tara what she could and couldn’t do, they would just have to hope her usual good sense prevailed and she didn’t agree to anything crazy. A quick glance at Giles showed that he was listening carefully to Ethan. Most of what they were saying wasn’t making a lot of sense to Xander but he trusted that Giles would make sure that Ethan didn’t go too far.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander excused himself from the session to relieve Joyce, who was on Willow-sitting duty. Tapping quietly on the door, he pushed it open and stuck his head in. Joyce put a finger to her lips and came out to meet him, shutting the door behind her. 

“She’s still asleep,” Joyce reported. “She probably won’t wake up for awhile yet, because of the sleeping pill, but I’d rather she slept as long as possible.”

“Do you mind if I sit with her for awhile?”

“Of course. I’ll just check on Buffy and Dawn.” Joyce smiled at him and patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. “We’ll get through this, Xander.”

“I hope so.”

He tiptoed into the room and took Joyce’s chair, pulling it closer to the bed. Willow was lying on her side, breathing deeply, her hair falling across her face as she slept. With gentle fingers, he stroked the wayward strands back from her face.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “You came back to help us and this shouldn’t have happened. We’ll get you back, Willow. Everyone’s working on it and we’ll find a way. So you hang in there.”

He sat by her side for a long time, holding her small hand in his much larger one, remembering, not the recent past, but the years growing up with her and Jesse. Back when they were the three musketeers, inseparable friends. Back before they’d known about vampires and hellmouths and death and loss. Remembering the funny, smart little girl with long red hair who’d been his friend and playmate for as long as he could remember. Remembering the tall, lanky boy who’d been his best friend. Remembering movies and baseball games and shared comics. Laughter and study sessions and picnics at the beach.

“It’s been a long road, Willow. You and Jesse were my best friends, and for a long time, I thought I’d lost you both. And I’m not losing you, now that we’ve found each other again, you hear me? So, you’re just going to have to get better.”

He hoped it wasn’t a bad sign that Willow didn’t respond, not even shifting restlessly at the sudden sound of his voice in the quiet room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She killed them all?” Buffy said, her voice rising incredulously.

Sometimes it just wasn’t worth telling humans anything. They spent far too much time being shocked and repeating what you’d just said.

“Got the boys doin’ a sweep for stragglers,” Spike admitted, “but looks like.”

“Why?” 

Spike rolled his eyes. The Slayer obviously wasn’t moving on any time soon. “Dunno. Don’t care. Solves our problem pretty neatly though.”

“Spike!”

“What? We’ve all known it might come down to this. Just be glad someone else did the work for you.”

“We wouldn’t have…” Buffy stuttered to a halt at his lifted eyebrow and disbelieving look. She sighed and didn’t continue protesting that it wouldn’t have come down to killing the Knights to protect Dawn. They both knew she’d have done it if she had to.

“Why would Glory kill the Knights?“ she asked instead. “What do you think it means?”

“Doesn’t mean anything, Slayer, except what we already know: she’s a nut job with an impulse control problem.”

“Not like we know anyone else who fits that description,” she muttered under her breath. Spike just smirked at her and she grimaced, looking embarrassed. “I’ll tell the others,” was all she said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The box was small and made of age-darkened wood. Xander’s shocked inhale was audible as he saw that the surface of the box was entirely covered with crosses, carved deeply into the wood.

“We have taken our guardianship seriously,” Tiirpok said. “To the best of our ability, the Gem is protected while it remains within this box.” His hands caressed the wood absently as he continued. “The box itself is spelled to be impervious to magical detection and, in addition to the obvious,” he traced the carvings on the lid with a single finger, “the wood itself was soaked for weeks in holy water prior to be used.”

Spike was getting impatient but held it back, not wanting to reveal how eager he was. Damn Inajii was being tighter than a father with his underage daughter’s chastity, obviously still having second thoughts about showing the goodies.

If this turned out to be a fake, he was going to kill something very dead.

Finally, Tiirpok opened the box and took out a small object, setting it on the table. Both Spike and Xander stared at it as the demon carefully set the box down behind him, well away from Spike.

It was a ring. Nothing unusual about it except for the ugliness factor. Gold, with a green gem that vaguely resembled an emerald. Spike felt a rising excitement as he looked at the heavy gold, worked by hand in a way that hadn’t been common since the Middle Ages. Damn thing looked old enough to be real.

“That’s it?” he asked. “‘expected somethin’ a bit more impressive.”

Xander’s elbow dug into his side in reprimand for his rudeness but the frail looking demon was indifferent to it. 

“The Gem has mystical properties that no one has ever been able to duplicate - even under torture. So far as we can tell, it is not from this dimension.”

“Has a vampire ever worn it?” Xander asked.

“Wars have been fought over it, and vampires have spent their unlives searching for it. None have been able to keep and hold it for more than a few days.”

Xander looked at him unhappily. “Maybe you should think about this, Spike. It sounds like every vampire in the world will be after you if they ever find out you have it.”

“Not worried about that, luv. If this is the real deal, I’ll be invulnerable.”

“Only if someone doesn’t pull it off your finger,” Xander pointed out, still not looking happy.

“Goin’ to have to defeat me first to do that,” he shrugged. 

“And if 50 vampires pile on top of you, you won’t be in a position to argue,” Xander muttered but didn’t object when Spike put out a hand to pick up the ring and slide it on his finger.

He waited, thinking something this momentous should be marked in some way. A tingle of magic, a mystical light, a fuckin’ mariachi band, something. Instead, he felt nothing, not taller, stronger, or in any way impervious to harm. “Sure this thing works?” he asked. “Shouldn’t we be seein’ a light show about now?”

The Inajii didn’t answer verbally. Instead, with a movement to swift for even Spike to follow, he reached into his pocket, produced a stake and drove it hard into the center of Spike’s chest.

“What the hell are you doing?” Xander yelled, grabbing Tiirpok’s arm and yanking it away from Spike. Or trying to. He was obviously shocked when the demon - who resembled a frail elderly man - didn’t budge an inch.

Spike was feeling pretty shocked himself as he looked down at the stake buried in the center of his chest in what should have been a killing blow. For a long moment, no one moved as they waited for the explosion of dust that should have ended Spike’s unlife.

Finally, point made, the Inajii yanked the stake back out and Spike watched in disbelief as the wound closed over immediately. There’d been no pain, he realized belatedly. He’d felt nothing but pressure as the wood sank deeply into his flesh. Xander’s shaking hand touched the hole in his black t-shirt, confirming by touch what his eyes told him: that Spike was completely healed, without so much as a mark or a drop of blood to show what had just happened.

“Hey!” Spike complained. “That was my favorite shirt.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike closed his eyes and tilted his head back, forgetting everything else for the moment, lost in the sensation of warm heat on his skin, the nearly forgotten pleasure of the sun’s rays pressing against him with an almost tangible warmth. It was only with an effort of will that he stopped himself from spinning around like a child, laughing out loud at the return of something he’d known he would never experience again. For more than a century, the sun had been an implacable enemy, it’s slightest touch bringing pain and the risk of final death. 

He opened his eyes, feasting them on the sight of the perfect spring day, the intense colors under the bright light of mid-day, colors that were muted and pale under the moon’s dim light were intense and sparkling by day - a sight denied to him except from a distance for so long he hadn’t even realized he missed it.

Xander’s brown hair shone in the light, he noticed, the sun picking out highlights he’d never seen before. The glow in the brown eyes was pure happiness though, owing nothing to the sun and Spike basked in it even more than the light of the sun, knowing Xander was simply and purely happy for him.

“Not bad,” he managed to say calmly although he could feel the out-of-control smile spreading across his face.


	36. Chapter 36

“Oh my god! Spike!” 

Dawn flung herself across the room and into Spike’s arms, her piercing shriek shattering the stunned silence that had followed Spike’s arrival. The vampire had strolled into the mansion through the front door as if the afternoon sun wasn’t lighting up the front of the house, and was now standing nonchalantly in the wide patch of once-fatal sun that streamed in through the open door behind him. 

Well, almost nonchalantly. The irrepressible smirk that seemed to have permanently attached itself to his face despite his best efforts was a bit of a giveaway for his mood. 

Now he just laughed out loud and swung Dawn around exuberantly before setting her down again. Dawn’s face was split with the kind of smile none of them had seen from her since Willow had been hurt, and her gleeful laugh was just another bonus that the Gem carried, as far as Spike was concerned. 

Rupert was polishing his glasses furiously as if perfectly clean lenses would allow him to believe what his eyes were seeing and Joyce looked like she was barely containing a delighted squeal of her own as she followed her daughter’s example, throwing her arms around Spike and hugging him hard. 

“I’m so happy for you,” she told him.

“It works! It really works!” Dawn crowed as her mother stepped back from Spike. “Lemme see!”

Spike waggled the ring at her and she grabbed his hand to examine it more closely. “Way ugly,” was her opinion. “But who cares? You were out in the sun. That is so cool.”

“Been a while,” he admitted, ignoring the laughter in Xander’s eyes as he struggled to hold on to his outwardly cool demeanor. He didn’t mind dropping his guard around Xander but he wasn’t about to act like a complete git in front of everyone, no matter how good it had felt to walk in the sun again.

“Congratulations, Spike,” Giles said, more calmly than the others but no less sincerely. “It’s wonderful to know that the Gem of Amara isn’t just a myth.”

“And now you can take me to the park for ice cream,” Dawn told him, the smile on her face faltering only slightly as she added: “Well, as soon as you kick Glory’s ass, that is.”

“Sounds like a plan, Niblet,” he told her. Even if she demanded Merry-Go-Rounds and cotton candy, it would be worth it to see her unafraid and carefree again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We need a plan.”

“Spike is the plan.” Buffy answered, saying the words without resentment. She was standing by the window, caught up in watching Spike sitting in the sunniest part of the garden, laughing with Dawn and Joyce. The incontrovertible evidence of the Gem’s effectiveness had gone a long way towards reconciling her to the Spike-takes-point plan.

Xander shook his head. “It’s not enough. The Gem doesn’t make Spike any stronger. It just means Glory can’t hurt him. She can still immobilize him. It’s not like she’s not going to notice that she can’t hurt him any more.”

Buffy frowned, turning her gaze from the scene outside the window as she considered that. “What do you have in mind?”

“We need to figure out how, when and where to tackle Glory. We can’t let her choose the ground. We need to set it up so it happens on our time and to our advantage.”

“I’m not sure I agree, Xander,” Giles said slowly. “Our best bet may be to do nothing.” He made a gesture that encompassed the entire house. “Ethan and Tara have both set wards here. The mansion is as safe as anywhere in town and, if we’re careful, there’s very little chance Glory will be able to find us here. Once the time for the ritual has passed, Dawn should be safe.”

“Especially since the Knights of Byzantium are apparently no longer in the picture,” Ethan said, voicing the relief which none of the rest of them were tactless enough to say out loud. The Knights hadn’t deserved what happened to them, but they were all privately glad that they weren’t going to be a threat to Dawn any longer. They had enough problems with Glory.

“Sounds good on paper, Giles, but it won’t work,” Xander argued. “Glory’s getting desperate and we can’t assume she’s doesn’t have some tricks up her sleeve.” He looked around at all of them. “Raise your hand if you think Glory massacred the Knights because she was bored.” Pointedly ignoring Ethan’s raised hand, he continued: “My guess is, there’s a couple of bodies missing, and she took at least one, maybe more, to torture for information about the Key.”

“But the Knights don’t know anything,” Buffy pointed out. “Not about Dawn, or this house, or anything that Glory can use.”

“And that will do them just as much good as it will the next group of people she starts killing to try and force us out of hiding. We’re nothing to her, she doesn’t care about human life and she has the power of a god. That’s not a good combination. We can’t just sit here and wait for her to start killing everyone in town. And isn’t that exactly what she said she would do? Something about ripping through every human in town to find the Key if that’s what it took? We can’t wait for her to decide it’s time for that plan.”

“What are you suggesting?” Giles asked. “You’re right that the Gem of Amara doesn’t change the fact that she’s still stronger than both Buffy and Spike. The robot isn’t an option any longer because Willow didn’t have a chance to finish reprogramming it and none of the rest of us have the skill to finish the work.”

“We outnumber her,” Xander countered. “You ever watch those nature shows? I’m thinking about those packs of wolves taking down a wildebeast.” He frowned, not sure if that was the right animal, then shook his head impatiently. “Anyway, Spike takes point and the rest of us jump in any time Spike gets knocked across the room. Even if none of us can hurt her, we can keep her busy until Spike gets back on his feet and attacks her again. If we do that for long enough, hopefully she’ll get tired. And then, with a little luck, she turns back into an ordinary guy.”

“You mean kill the human when she gets pulled back inside him?” Giles’ voice was even and he showed no sign of emotion.

“That’s exactly what I mean.” Xander said it unflinchingly, despite the pang of guilt. 

Buffy’s eyes dropped but she nodded reluctantly, while Ethan looked as if he didn’t care.

“What about Willow?” Tara asked, appearing silently from down the hall where she’d been sitting with Willow. Despite the fatigue shadowing her features, her gaze met theirs steadily.

“We’ll have to hope that, if Glory’s dead, then what she did will be reversed,” Xander told her.

“That won’t work,” Tara told them with quiet authority. “What Glory did to Willow and the others isn’t a spell, so it won’t be reversed by killing her.” She pulled up a chair and sat down, looking unutterably weary. In addition to taking on the majority of the burden of caring for Willow, she’d been spending every free minute searching for a way to repair the damage Glory had done. “Mr. Rayne and I have an idea. We’ve found a spell that might undo what Glory did, take back from her what was taken from Willow.”

“What spell?” Giles asked.

“It’s a chaos spell,” Ethan said indifferent to Giles’ immediate and obvious disapproval.

“You can’t mean for Tara…”

“She offered,” Ethan said provokingly, but then shrugged. “But no. Ms. Maclay’s magic is about the least suited to chaos spells that I have ever encountered. Far too balanced and in touch with her inner self to appreciate chaos, I’m afraid. I was planning on doing the spell myself.”

“You?” Buffy asked skeptically. “You’re going to come with us to fight Glory?” 

Ethan’s sardonic look put the lie to any recollection of himself doing just that not long ago. “Hardly, Ms. Summers. I’m not foolish enough to simply walk up to Glory and attempt to pull off a rather complicated spell in the split second before she knocks me through the nearest wall. I can perform the spell from a safe distance and have every intention of doing so.”

“The good news is that Mr. Rayne thinks the spell might restore more than just Willow,” Tara explained. “The spell should tear free anything Glory has taken not just from Willow, but from anyone. With luck, everyone she’s… hurt will be restored.”

“With luck.” Buffy repeated, still sounded like she wasn’t buying anything Ethan was selling. “You have that much power?” she asked Ethan.

Ethan leaned back in his chair and folded his arms complacently. “You do remember a rather more interesting than usual Halloween a few years back?” he asked, obviously amused. 

Buffy looked torn between remembered outrage and a hint of belated respect at the reminder that Ethan was capable of casting spells that had town-wide impact. Had done it more than once, Xander recalled, remembering band candy night. The fact that he’d done spells of that magnitude for a joke - or possibly to impress Giles - made Xander wonder for the first time just how powerful Ethan really was. He’d certainly pulled off the spell to disable the chip in Spike’s head with seeming ease. Ethan’s attitude had really colored their perception of his abilities, he realized. The chaos mage didn’t have the grave seriousness and caution about his power that Tara and the coven did, treating his power as lightly as a child showing off a new stunt - something none of the other kids could do, but still, nothing more than a lark. 

Looking around, Xander could see that everyone else was also adjusting their image of Ethan from somewhat annoying outsider, there because of Giles and for no other reason, to a powerful magic worker who could be truly useful, if he chose, or dangerous, if that’s what he wanted. 

“Ok, good. Ethan gets set up, does the spell, then we tackle Glory,” he summed up crisply. “So, where do we fight her, and how do we get her there?” He looked around at the others hoping one of them had more inspiration than he was currently coming up with.

~~~~~~~

“What if we lure Glory into an ambush? Somewhere of our choosing outside of town where there aren’t so many people for her to kill?”

They’d been discussing options for more than an hour and hadn’t come up with anything that felt solid. All of them were tired and the reality that they were fighting a god was sinking in again after the brief euphoria of the Gem.

“I know you’re not thinking of using Dawn as bait,” Buffy said tightly.

“Of course not. I was more thinking misdirection. We waive a red flag over here while Dawn and Joyce are sneaking away over there.”

“Still, we shouldn’t underestimate Glory. Trying to get her to follow one of us to a place of our choosing…” Giles said dubiously.

“I was thinking more along the lines of planting the information with her minions,” Xander admitted.

“Might work,” Spike allowed. “Given they’re not the brightest lot, but what could you tell them that would convince them we’re out in the open with the Key? Which is the only thing that will get Glory’s attention this close to the ritual.”

Buffy sighed tiredly, scrubbing her hands through her hair and trying not to sound as worried as she actually was. “We need to find out more about the ritual. We need to know exactly when it’s going to happen and we need to know what it involves. Because I’m thinking that if we don’t know what Glory has planned, then we’re going to find out the hard way by Glory kicking in the front door.” She grimaced apologetically in Tara’s direction. “No offense, but I’m not sure the wards are going to hold if Glory gets really pissed and short of time.”

Tara just shook her head. “No, you’re right. We don’t know how long they’re going to hold or if Glory will find a way through them to find us.”

“So, all we need is to know exactly what Glory is planning and exactly when it is going to happen,” Giles summarized wearily. “Something the Knights of Byzantium attempted to learn for centuries without much success. Perfect.”

“Always someone around who knows something,” Spike pointed out. “Maybe we should find one of those scabby little minions again, ask them.”

The worst part was, no one had anything better to offer in the way of a plan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy was sitting on the couch with her head on her mother’s shoulder, Joyce’s arm around her. Watching them from the shadows, Xander couldn’t help thinking that Mrs. Summers was the only thing keeping Buffy together. Every time they got a glimpse of cabin-fever Buffy, Joyce deftly distracted her - calling her in to the kitchen to help her peel vegetables, or wash dishes, or set the table, any one of a number of mundane tasks that always ended up with the two of them talking. 

Truth was, Joyce was keeping them all together. Without ever belying the seriousness of their situation, she had single-handedly managed to make their forced confinement in the mansion feel almost like a family outing. She quietly insisted that Dawn, in addition to her self-imposed Willow responsibilities and helping with research, keep doing her schoolwork, often with one of the others helping her.

She cooked for all of them, putting her foot down about them stopping everything and all of them sitting down together at the table and eating a proper meal. She allowed no discussion of Glory at the table, firmly keeping the conversation on mundane topics. After a brief resistance, all of them realized that they were better off for the break from their relentless focus on Glory, returning to research after the break, refreshed and ready to tackle the problem with fresh eyes. 

Xander couldn’t even imagine how they would have made it through these past few days without her. Buffy and Dawn especially would have long since fallen to pieces without Joyce and he suspected the rest of them would have as well. Having her mother there to share the responsibility of protecting Dawn took some of the weight off Buffy’s shoulders. Joyce’s calm presence kept Buffy grounded and stopped Dawn from panicking. Without her, he suspected Buffy would have given in to her own fears and taken off with Dawn, with or without the rest of them, in a desperate attempt to outrun Glory for long enough to make a difference. 

Even with Joyce there, there was a building tension in the house, all of them aware that time was running out. Willow unwittingly confirmed that fact as she periodically struggled against them, crying out that it was “time”. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to answer questions or given them any insight into Glory even during her rare lucid moments, whatever connection she had with Glory or the Key, she wasn’t able to talk coherently about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Giles’ raised voice could be heard throughout the mansion. “You bloody fool! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!”

“Careful, Ripper,” was Ethan’s amused reply. “I’ll start thinking you care.”

“And I’ll start thinking you’re trying to be some kind of hero if you ever pull another stunt like that.”

“No need to be insulting.”

“You endangered yourself and everyone in this house!”

“Guys? Is there a reason the whole street needs to be hearing this?” Xander asked, sticking his head in the room. He’d been sitting with Willow when the argument started. They’d been having to drug Willow more frequently, as she’d grown restless and agitated, struggling against the restraints they’d been forced to use and talking wildly about how she had to be somewhere. Trusting to the sedatives to keep her quiet, he’d followed the angry voices to the dining room.

Both men swung around to face him, Giles obviously barely clinging to his temper while Ethan looked completely unruffled. Giles took an audible breath and deliberately unclenched his hands.

“I apologize, Xander,” he said stiffly. “Ethan just did something exceptionally foolish, even for him, and I was merely expressing my disapproval. I hadn’t realized quite…”

“How loud and condescending you were being?” Ethan finished for him with a slightly resentful edge to his voice. 

“What happened?” Xander asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“Ethan slipped out without telling any of us and went to see a highly unreliable source, looking for information on Glory,” Giles explained scathingly. “He’s lucky he wasn’t killed. The Nathryck demon he visited…” he shook his head as words obviously failed him. 

“What’s Ethan done now?” Buffy asked, coming in from the garden followed by Dawn, Joyce and Spike. 

“Nathryck demon?” Spike repeated. “You mean Doc?”

“Yes, I wasn’t aware that you knew him,” Ethan said, breaking off his glaring match with Giles.

“Don’t,” Spike said. “Just heard about him.” For the benefit of the rest of them, he added: “Bookish type. The kind of fellow who’s tuned in to the nastier corners of the magic world. Connected, but not exactly what you’d call reliable.” 

“The kind of unreliable chap who just might be aware of Glory and her plans.” Ethan gestured to the metal box on the table. 

Spike snorted. “Beat it out of him, did you?” When everyone looked skeptical, he smirked at the chaos mage. “Doc’s about 80 in human years and weighs maybe 100 pounds soaking wet. Even Mr. Heroic here could probably take him.”

“Appearances are deceiving, Spike, as you bloody well know,” Giles exclaimed. “Nathryck demons may look like elderly humans but they don’t fight like one. Ethan could have gotten himself killed.”

“But he didn’t and it looks like he got the goodies,” Spike pointed out.

Buffy was already examining the box. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Ethan said sarcastically. “It’s what’s inside that’s important.” He gave Giles an unreadable glance, opening the box and handing him a thick book. The leather cover was dark and cracking with age and Giles opened it with cautious eagerness.

“Apparently Doc has been waiting a long time for Glory to appear.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Could show a bit more gratitude, Ripper.”

“I admit you pulled it off, Ethan, but why go alone? Why not take me, or someone else as backup?”

The two men had obviously not remembered the door was open and Xander paused for a moment, listening curiously for Ethan’s explanation. The trip had seemed out of character for the chaos mage, especially if the demon was dangerous - Ethan tended to avoid physical danger whenever possible.

“I’ve dealt with him safely before, Rupert,” Ethan said seriously and Giles stilled at the unusual use of his given name. “Doc is a bit iffy. He’s far more likely to tell a chaos mage what we needed to hear, rather than someone like you. Bit obvious these days, Ripper, that you only pull for the good side of the Force.” He lifted his hand and cupped Giles’ face, stroking his thumb across his cheek with a loving gesture. “Pity all that lovely darkness is so often buried these days under all those layers of tweed.”

“I’ll show you darkness,” Giles growled, taking Ethan’s lips in a savage kiss. 

Xander smiled to himself as Giles pushed the very willing Ethan back against the table. He reached in and quietly pulled the door closed, giving the two men their privacy, hoping for their sakes that the folding table was sturdier than it looked. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Watcher’s getting some, I see,” Spike commented when Xander came into their bedroom. “Good on him.”

Xander climbed into the bed beside him. “They’re just making out.” He glared at Spike when he opened his mouth to tell him exactly what the two were doing now. “And if you ever want sex again, you will not put images in my head of Giles doing it with anyone,” he said threateningly. “Got it?”

“Right, pet. The two middle-aged British guys are just sipping tea and holding hands.”

“Damn straight,” Xander muttered and Spike laughed, sliding his arms around his boy. 

“Not like I’m getting any anyway,” he pointed out. “What with your ‘no doing it while surrounded by other people’ foolishness.”

“Yeah, like either of us would survive Dawn walking in on us.”

“Speak for yourself,” Spike leered, then ducked as Xander took a mock swing at him. He caught Xander’s hand and held it, pulling it against his chest. Xander sighed and squirmed a little, settling down for the night.

“Xander?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ll be gone for a few hours tonight, luv. Back by dawn.” He smirked as he remembered the ring. “Or shortly after.”

Xander sat up quickly, shooting him a look that had more than a little accusation in it. “And why exactly do you need to leave when we all agreed we have to stay out of sight for as long as possible? Ethan’s little errand this afternoon was risky enough.”

“Gotta check in with the Court.” Spike told him calmly, knowing Xander would understand the necessity. “Been gone from the apartment three nights already. Court doesn’t see me soon and some of the minions are going to start getting ideas. Not to worry, luv. I’ll spend a couple hours at the Court, knock a few heads together, and have the Lieutenants keep things in check for the next couple of days. Tell ’em I’m going out of town or something.” 

While most Masters didn’t leave their Courts, Spike had left town a couple of times with Xander for a few days or a week. Finishing off Glory shouldn’t take long enough for the Court to get restive. 

He hoped. 

Xander nodded reluctantly, then brightened. “Good. You can do something for me while you’re out. Stop by a pawn shop and pick up nine more rings.”

“What?” Spike blinked in surprise, having assumed he was about to be handed a grocery list.

“Spike, the first time Glory knocks you across the room and you aren’t injured, she’s going to figure out something’s up. She may not be the smartest hellgod on the planet, but it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to know that something’s different when you start the instant healing thing. She’s been around forever, what if she’s heard of the Gem? What if she decides to pull the big, ugly, obviously old ring you’re suddenly wearing off and see if that’s it? Let’s at least make it harder for her. Or wear the damn thing on your toes to hide it.”

“Toe rings aren’t exactly my style, luv,” Spike pointed out.

“Well, lots and lots of ugly rings have just become your style, Spike. Get used to it.”

“Fair enough.” It was a good thought on Xander’s part and Spike smiled. That was his boy, always looking out for him. Well, he was going to do the same for Xander, whether his Claimed liked it or not. “Need you to do something for me, luv.” Spike told him, turning slightly so he could look Xander directly in the eyes. “Need you to sit this one out.”

“What? No!” Xander began heatedly.

“I mean it, Xander. All Glory has to do to make this -” he held up the hand with the Gem in illustration - “meaningless is to threaten you. She puts a knife to your throat and the fight’s over. And it isn’t going to take her long to figure that out. Like you said, as soon as she realizes she can’t hurt me, she’s going to try something else. Can’t risk it.”

“Spike…” 

“Not open for discussion, luv. Because if it’s a choice between you and the rest of the world, the world can burn. I’ll choose you every time.” He shrugged and the careless gesture somehow managed to convey just how serious he was about this. “I’m a demon. Not really into all that self-sacrifice for the greater good bollocks. If it’s a choice between having you by my side in hell or living without you in paradise, I know which way I’ll go. Love Dawn and Joyce, but I’d trade them for you without blinking. That’s why I need you to sit this one out.”

Xander stared at him for a long time. He’d known he was important to Spike, that Spike loved him and that he considered their relationship permanent. He hadn’t really understood that Spike would sacrifice everyone else he loved to keep Xander safe. Hearing Spike say it so calmly…that Xander’s life was worth more to him than the rest of the world, was pretty scary making and humbling and really really amazing.

“Guess I’m sitting this one out then,” was all he could think to say.


	37. Chapter 37

Spike signaled his Lieutenants as soon as he set foot in the Court, jerking his head slightly in the direction of the stairs. Without waiting for acknowledgement, he climbed the stairs to the second floor, ignoring the curious looks from the minions who were drifting back to the factory as dawn approached.

Four of the five Lieutenants were in the Court and they followed him into the conference room. Spike stood at the head of the table, facing them. “Hellgod in town,” he told them without preamble. “Looking to open some kind of portal. Followers are mostly short, scabby demons who wear brown robes. Any of you seen them around?”

“They’ve been all over town in the last few days,” Michael said immediately. “Asking questions, looking for the Slayer.”

“They getting any information?”

“The Slayer hasn’t been seen for the last several nights. She hasn’t been patrolling like usual, just those demons that sometimes cover for her,” Arkady told him.

Spike nodded, thinking quickly. He wasn’t going to sit in the mansion for days on end, not when they had the means now of kicking Glory’s overrated arse. They needed to end this. “Right. The five of you are going to track them down. Pass the word that the Slayer and her friends are hiding out in that deserted campground on the east side of town. Be subtle,” his gaze lingered on Anthony warningly. “Don’t talk to them directly. Let them overhear you gossiping or some such. But I want them to hear where the Slayer’s at as soon as possible. That means I want you in the tunnels and spreading out around town by noon. Take a minion with you, someone you can pretend to be bragging to, or giving instructions to, nice and loud so it can be overheard. Stake ’em afterwards. Jose, you find Mark and explain what I want.”

They all nodded, none of them troubled by the instructions. Michael and Anthony hiding their puzzlement, the other two just accepting that Spike wasn’t going to explain his reasons.

“When you’re through, that’s the end of it,” he finished. “No one else in the Court ever hears about this. Clear?”

He flung himself into a chair as the lieutenants filed out, satisfied that the word would get back to Glory this afternoon. If her minions were canvassing the town, the witch’s ravings were on the money and time was running out for Glory to use the Key. They could expect an attack within a few hours at most of Glory learning where they were hiding out. 

He pushed himself to his feet and strode down to the factory floor. The sun was up and he noted with approval that Jose had pulled Mark to one side to bring him up to speed. Tempting as it was to just walk out the front door into the early morning sunlight, he dropped down instead through the opening to the tunnels. No point in letting anyone find out about the Gem until it was unavoidable. Sooner or later, he was going to have to fight for it but he didn’t need the distraction now. He had another errand to run.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He kicked in the rear door of the pawn shop. None of the businesses on the street were open yet, except the coffee shop three doors down, and the street was quiet enough that no one should notice him entering the pawn shop from the alley. As he entered the deserted building, a small red light began flashing behind the counter and he smirked. He’d be out of here long before the Sunnydale police put down their donuts and answered the alarm. 

He crossed to the jewelry section and smashed the glass case, grabbing two trays of rings and tipping them into a plastic bag he snatched from behind the counter. Twenty or so rings tumbled into the bag and he figured that was enough to give him a decent assortment to choose from. 

Turning to leave, he hesitated. There was something…

He couldn’t quite place it but there was a familiar smell in the air, something that tugged at his memory and put him on alert. Ignoring the rapidly approaching siren, he followed the faint scent to the racks of clothing, closing his eyes and following his other senses to the smell that was pricking at him. 

He ran his hand along the rack, tracing its way along a line of leather coats until his hand stopped at one particular one. Pulling it off the rack, his jaw dropped and he laughed out loud, only remembering where he was as tires screeched outside the shop. His hand closed convulsively around the worn black leather and he sprinted for the back, just as Sunnydale’s finest kicked in the front door.

His duster hadn’t been lost after all in the burnt ruins of the Initiative. The faint reek of chemicals and the vaguely familiar scent of one of the guards who’d patrolled the corridor outside his cells still clung to the leather and Spike laughed again as he took to his heels, ignoring the shouts behind him. The soldier had pawned his duster and the beloved coat was his again. 

Losing the police, Spike slowed his pace and shrugged into the coat. As the soft leather wrapped itself around him like they’d never been parted, he felt again the rush of winning the death match with the New York Slayer, drinking deep of her rich, hot blood spiced with adrenaline and that something extra that made Slayer blood the headiest drink of his life. Twice now he’d tasted that blood, the power of it intoxicating him like nothing else he’d ever drunk. Just wearing the black leather duster was enough to transport him back to that moment of unparalleled triumph: when he became the only living vampire to have killed two Slayers. Symbol of the toughest fight of his unlife, the coat had been part of his identity for more than two decades. Having it back again made him feel invincible in a way even the Gem couldn’t. 

Spike lit a cigarette and stowed the pack in a pocket of the duster. Taking a long drag, he turned and strode down the street in the direction of the mansion, the smell of cigarette smoke and leather accompanying him like old friends, the faint sound of the coat billowing behind him as he walked and the unfamiliar sensation of being completely heedless of where the shadows were filling him with reckless glee.

Glory didn’t stand a chance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of people moving around upstairs roused Xander from sleep and he stirred, reaching for Spike sleepily. His groping hand found only an empty bed and he woke the rest of the way, feeling that instinctive flutter of panic at the realization that Spike hadn’t returned to their bed by dawn. After a moment, he smiled, remembering the Gem and rolled out of the bed. Spike would either be upstairs chatting with Joyce as she fixed breakfast, or even taking his time strolling home through the sunlight. Well, probably not that as they were all trying to avoid being seen outside the mansion. Pulling on jeans and a t-shirt, Xander hastily brushed his teeth and padded upstairs to see what was up. 

Giles was in the dining room. From the notes scattered around him, it looked like he’d been up for several hours already, pouring over the book Ethan had obtained from the demon.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

Giles looked up but didn’t answer right away, pulling his glasses off and rubbing at his eyes. “Not well,” he said quietly. “Tara tells me Willow had another violent episode this morning. She didn’t say, but from the mark on her face, it appears Willow struck her. It’s not Willow’s fault, of course, but I am worried that she will become too much for us to handle. She is getting more and more agitated as time goes on.”

“I know. I think it’s going to keep getting worse until we stop Glory.” 

“I suspect you are right. I’ve been reading the book Ethan brought and it contains more information about the ritual itself. It doesn’t give an exact timetable for when Glory can use the Key but it does tell us what the ritual involves.”

“So, how does it work?” Dawn asked, and Xander jumped at the sudden sound of her voice behind him. Looking around, Dawn was staring at Giles, who faltered under her steady gaze and looked down. “I want to know.”

“Dawn…” Joyce began, entering from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishcloth and looking worried.

“No,” Dawn insisted. “I need to know.”

Giles glanced helplessly at Joyce for guidance, who reluctantly nodded her permission. “Why don’t you tell us all, Rupert,” she said.

~~~~~

Everyone but Willow and Spike - who wasn’t back yet - gathered in the living room to hear what Giles had learned. Looking as if he wished he were anywhere but here, Giles sat in an armchair facing them all. Ethan leaned against the back of the chair, his face unusually shuttered. The rest of them had found seats around the room.

Xander couldn’t help noticing how defeated Giles looked, and he dreaded hearing what Giles had to say. Giles was avoiding everyone’s eyes, especially Dawn’s. He’d winced when Joyce had given her permission to tell Dawn but he hadn’t protested. Now, he squared his shoulders a little and shuffled through his notes, clearing his throat before beginning to speak.

“The book describes the ritual Glory must use to open the portal. Much of it is information that we already know, but there are passages that…”

He cleared his throat again and put on his glasses, picking up the book and turning to a marked passage. “The Key was living energy. It needed to be channeled, poured into a specific place at a specific time. The energy would flow into that spot, causing the walls between the dimensions to break down. It stops -- the energy is used up -- and the walls come back up. Glory uses that time to get back to her dimension, not caring that all manner of hell will be unleashed on Earth in the meantime.”

“But I’m not living energy anymore.” Dawn said before the rest of them could think of anything to say. She looked as fragile as porcelain as she sat there, pale and heartbreakingly young. Joyce had her arm around her as if she could shield Dawn from harm by the force of her love alone. “How… how is the energy released?”

Giles lifted his eyes for the first time, looking at Dawn as he answered as gently as he could. “Your blood, Dawn. If your blood is shed at a certain time and place, the fabric which separates all realities will be ripped apart. Dimensions will pour into one another with no barriers to stop them. Reality as we know it will be destroyed, and chaos will reign on Earth.”

“So how do we stop it?”

Buffy’s grim question broke the awful silence that had followed Giles’ explanation. He wrenched his gaze from Dawn with an almost physical effort and looked at Buffy, making a helpless little gesture.

“The portal will only close once the blood is stopped. And the only way for that to happen is… Buffy, the only way is …” His voice faltered, unable to put it into words with Buffy and Joyce both staring at him with horrified eyes.

“Is to kill me,” Dawn said with a horrible matter-of-factness. Despite her calm statement, her eyes were frightened.

“No!” Joyce pulled Dawn fully into her arms. “That’s not going to happen, baby.” Her eyes begged them to find another way.

“It’s only for a short time, right?” Buffy asked desperately. “Glory goes home and the walls come back up, no more hell on earth, right?” Her eyes pleaded with Giles. “Dawn survives and we can clean up the mess afterwards.”

Giles shook his head. “I wish that were true. But the portal won’t close until the energy is stopped.” He looked down at the book in his hands and read out loud: “‘The blood flows, the gates will open. The gates will close when it flows no more.’” He closed the book. “When….”

“When I’m dead.” Dawn’s voice was barely audible. 

“I’m very much afraid so. According to everything I can find, the only way to close the portal once it’s opened is for you to die.”

Buffy’s quiet response was unwavering. “That’s not happening. If the portal is opened, then you are all going to have to look out for yourselves, because I will not let Dawn die, even to save the world.”

“Buffy…” Dawn began, her voice shaking.

“No! I won’t. I can’t. You’re my sister. I won’t let you die.”

“If I don’t, then you and mom and everyone else will die too,” Dawn said quietly, but with steel in her voice. “I don’t want that.”

“I killed Angel to save the world,” Buffy told them all. “I can’t go through that again. I won’t kill someone else I love to save the world. I’m sorry, but I can’t do it.”

“Then we have to find another way,” Tara said softly.

“We have to take out Glory before she starts her ritual.” It seemed obvious to Xander. Obvious, and maybe impossible, but it was their only shot.

“That’s what we’re going to do,” Spike said flatly. “Today.” 

Xander wasn’t the only one startled by Spike’s sudden appearance. They all turned to look at him, standing in the doorway, hands clasping his belt, whipcord lean and dangerous in black t-shirt and jeans, the familiar black leather duster hanging off his shoulders. His eyes were fixed on Dawn and she straightened slightly, seeming to take comfort from the certainty of his voice.

Xander blinked, not sure he was seeing correctly. The duster had been lost last year, vanished inside the Initiative, but now, impossibly, Spike was wearing it again, looking just as he had the first time Xander ever saw him. 

“But…”

Spike overrode Buffy’s hesitant beginning. “Sent word to Glory where we’ve been staying, she’ll come for us.”

“You what?!” Giles exclaimed angrily, rising to his feet.

Spike just looked at him. “Don’t be stupid, Watcher. I didn’t tell her about the mansion, just where we’ve supposedly been staying. The place where we’re going to kill her.”

Giles relaxed. “Oh.” He sat back down slowly. “Perhaps you should fill us in on what you’re planning,” he suggested.

~~~~~~~~

Spike told them about the arrangements he’d made, not caring if any of them thought he should’ve consulted with them. Xander wasn’t upset and that was all he cared about. Dawn needed them to end this and so did the rest of them. They couldn’t just continue to wait for Glory to make a move, tension ratcheting up until it crackled in the air like static electricity, tempers fraying, and nerves stretching to the snapping point. None of the humans were going to be fit to fight soon unless they stopped waiting and dealt with Glory now.

For a wonder, none of them made more than token protests and most of those were actually practical concerns: who went and who stayed, the lay of the land, and whatnot. 

“Won’t Glory know this is a trap? We don’t have tents or anything and don’t have time to set anything up. She’ll know we haven’t been staying there and that’s what your Lieutenants are telling her, right? That we’ve been hiding out there for awhile now?” Buffy asked.

“Not to worry, Slayer,” he told her. “Already got that covered.”

~~~~~~~

“A Winnebago?” Buffy asked in disbelief. “Where on earth…? And where did you get the money…?” She bit off the rest of her question at Spike’s look. “Oh. Never mind.”

“Well done, Spike,” Rupert said. “This won’t arouse her suspicion. We could very well have been camping out in this the entire time. Ethan and Tara can remain safely inside the camper while they do the spell, while the rest of us wait outside for Glory.”

“Ridiculous tin can, but it ought to do the trick.” Spike had been pleased when he’d thought of the camper, even though it had been embarrassing to nick something so… human. “Told the Lieutenants to head out at noon,” he reminded them. A glance up at the sun told him it was nearly that. “We need to pack up and head out. My guess is she’ll be coming sooner rather than later.”

“Agreed.” Buffy turned back to the house. “Weapons all around then, and whatever ingredients and books you guys need for the spell.”

Everyone scrambled to get what they needed and Spike caught Xander’s arm, keeping him by his side as the others went back inside the mansion. “You’re staying here, luv,” he reminded Xander. “Watch over Dawn and Joyce until we get back. And the witch,” he added belatedly. He didn’t care about the witch himself, but she was important to Xander and he was prepared to use anything he had to, to keep Xander out of this fight.

Xander nodded reluctantly and then threw his arms around Spike, hugging him tightly. “Be careful,” he said.

“Invulnerable, remember?” Spike reminded him cockily. “We’ll take Glory out and be back in time for supper.”

“You do that,” Xander said grimly, giving him a quick, hard kiss. “Because if you let Glory kill you, I’m never going to forgive you.”

He turned on his heel but Spike pulled him back, burying a hand in his hair and kissing him slowly and thoroughly. “Thank you.” 

Xander’s brows quirked and then he nodded, understanding that Spike was thanking him for being willing to sit this one out. 

“Just don’t get used to it.”

Spike let out a short bark of laughter. “Love you, Xander,” he said quietly

“Love you, Spike.”

Xander turned and walked into the mansion without looking back and Spike let him go this time. He knew how hard it was for Xander to let him go into this fight without insisting on being by his side. He heard the others coming and swung himself up into the camper, settling into the driver’s seat and turning on the engine.

“Let’s move it, kiddies,” he called to the others as they climbed into the vehicle with weapons, books and a small box of magic supplies. “Got us a hellgod to kill.”


	38. Chapter 38

“Charming.”

Buffy jumped down from the Winnebago and looked around the deserted campsite, her nose wrinkling a little in distaste. Clumps of grass sprouted through the cracked and broken pavement of the parking lot and the tent and picnic areas were week-choked and overgrown and it was obvious the place had been a popular spot for illegal garbage dumping for some time. 

“Yeah, well, it’ll do. Not like Culloden Moor isn’t a bloody swamp,” Spike pointed out, stepping out of the camper into the bright afternoon light and wondering if he was ever going to get tired of just popping out casually into the sun. Not for a long time, he suspected, sternly repressing a smile that threatened to come down way too close to the giddy end of the scale.

Buffy gave him a blank look. “Do I even want to know what you’re talking about?” she asked.

“It’s no use, Spike. We’re among the heathen,” Giles told him, with a shared ‘damn colonials’ understanding, giving Tara a hand down from the camper’s step. “Over there,” he said, pointing towards where trees grew thickly at the east side of the parking area. “We should set up under the trees because that’s what Glory would expect, given your former allergy to sunlight, Spike. That also puts us far enough from the camper that hopefully Ethan and Tara will be able to work undisturbed.”

“Are you sure you guys shouldn’t be further away?” Buffy asked. “I was thinking you’d be out of sight entirely. And definitely further than a pissed-off hellgod can throw an ax.”

Ethan gave her a look that spoke volumes about his opinion of her intelligence.  
“Unless you want to risk having your mind torn out by mistake, there a limit to how far away I can be,” he said impatiently. “I need to have Glory within sight in order to focus the spell properly. As soon as you fearless warriors” - his voice dripped sarcasm at the term - “have her attention, I’ll begin the spell. I trust you lot can keep her too busy to spend much time looking around for a few minutes,” he said, obviously dubious of their ability to do any such thing. 

“Then why isn’t Willow here?” Buffy asked sharply. “Don’t you need her nearby to restore her?”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “No. The spell tears loose anything that doesn’t belong to Glory. Willow’s mind will be drawn back to where it belongs. Having her body here, screaming and thrashing about, isn’t necessary for the spell’s effectiveness and would certainly do nothing to assist with either our concentration or our ability to remain hidden.”

“Oh.”

“Remember the Gentlemen, Buffy? Everyone in town regained their voice when you opened the box, not just those nearby,” Giles reminded her. “It’s quite comforting really,” he added innocently. “To think that order wins over chaos every time.”

Ethan glared at him, then shrugged and said: “There is a good chance that Glory will be momentarily disoriented at the very least, immediately after the spell. I suggest you use that to your advantage.”

Giles looked relieved. “That will be of great assistance, Ethan. Thank you. Anything that helps weaken Glory will make our task easier.”

Leaving the three magic workers to set up inside the camper, Spike and Buffy set out to check the perimeter. The campsite was a good mile off the freeway and had been constructed in the woods to offer campers cool relief from the summer’s heat. It had been deserted for years, closed for “maintenance” which somehow had never been completed. Too many mysterious disappearances and ‘accidental’ deaths had occurred over the handful of years it had been a state campground and the government had quietly and unofficially shut it down permanently. It hadn’t been used in twenty years and wasn’t even in the guidebooks any longer. From the looks of it, even vampires hadn’t wasted their time hunting here in a long time. 

Spike had parked the camper in the center of the parking lot, leaving clear ground around the camper in every direction. No one could get closer than 100 feet to the magic workers without being seen.

He’d found the campground during his early days as Master of Sunnydale, when he’d explored every square foot of his Territory, familiarizing himself with the area under his protection and control. It hadn’t been on his patrol route since those early days and, now, visiting the place again for the first time in several years, he was pleased with his choice of battleground. Far enough outside town to be plausible as a hiding place for the Slayer to have taken her people, the long-deserted area wasn’t something anyone was likely to stumble across by accident. The extensive parking lot gave them a clear field to maneuver in, and the surrounding woods provided cover should the magic workers need to run for it.

It would do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander snapped the phone shut. “Well, at least that’s something.” He couldn’t stop pacing restlessly around the courtyard, despite the fact that he knew it wasn’t helping Joyce or Dawn. He should be inside, sitting with Willow or talking to Dawn, something. Doing something useful instead of wasting all his energy worrying himself sick about what was happening across town. 

“Xander.”

Joyce stood in the doorway, gazing at him sympathetically. 

“Sorry,” he told her. “I know I can’t do anything about Glory, she’s kind of a superheroes only fight, but…”

“But you’re worried about them. I am too.” She stepped through the French doors and crossed the courtyard, hugging herself a little as she stood gazing at the jasmine, tumbling down the wall in a profusion of white flowers. After a moment, she turned to look at him. “You know who else I’m worried about? The mental patients at the hospital. If the spell works and they get better as quickly as they got sick, they’re going to wake to find themselves strapped to beds, possibly with no memory of why they are there. We’re here for Willow, but…” she gestured helplessly.

“Mrs. Summers? Have I told you lately that I love you?”

She looked confused but pleased and Xander pulled out his cell again. “That’s something I can do something about.” He grinned at her. “I know someone who works in the psych ward. She can be there to keep an eye on things.” Now that she’d mentioned it, it would probably be a good idea to have someone there who could help cut through the bureaucratic red tape that would undoubtedly get in the way of the immediately release of people who had been raving lunatics only an hour earlier. Hopefully, the hospital would be so relieved to get rid of the mental patients that they would just accept the miracle cure the same way they accepted Sunnydale’s astounding number of barbeque fork accidents.

“Is Willow awake?”

Joyce nodded. 

“Maybe I’m just being stupid, but why don’t we bring her outside? I have this crazy picture in my head of her…” he hesitated, not sure what to call it. “umm, what Glory took from her, speeding towards us like a comet. Or a swarm of bees. My imagination can’t decide if it will destroy the house, or bounce off all this stone.” He gestured to the thick stone walls that made up the house’s exterior.

“That doesn’t sound like such a crazy idea to me. Even if it’s not necessary, it might be a nice change for her, out here in the sun.”

Joyce stepped back inside the mansion as Xander dialed the Olsen’s phone number.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Something’s coming,” Spike said, twisting around at the sound of a car on the road leading in from the freeway. 

It was mid afternoon and for hours they’d had nothing to do but wait. Rupert was the only one of them who appeared to have accepted the inevitable down time, sitting reading in a chair near the camper, an ax and a baseball bat lying casually on the ground near him, doing his best to look as if he was just enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun and not as if he was guarding anyone inside the camper. Tara and Rayne were quiet as well, fine-tuning their mojo, or whatever, and concealed from prying eyes by drawn curtains. 

All three of them were doing a better job than the Slayer and himself, Spike admitted. He and Buffy had sparred somewhat listlessly for awhile but, not wanting to risk being tired out, there hadn’t been much point. They’d taken turns doing the rounds of the campground, ensuring that no one was sneaking up on them through the woods, but otherwise there was nothing to do but wait for Glory to show. And she was obviously taking her own sweet time, although he had to admit that she might not have even gotten the word yet that they were here. The worst part was the nagging fear that she might not be taking the bait at all.

Buffy and he rose to their feet, picking up their weapons as they did so and moved to the edge of the parking lot, Spike hanging back a few feet so he was in the dappled shade of the trees - close enough to true shade that he didn’t think anyone would notice that shafts of sunlight made it through the foliage as the breeze rustled in the leaves and tossed the upper branches about. Without the Ring, Spike would have had to be constantly on the alert and shifting position to avoid a fatal sunburn.

He frowned as a light blue sedan that had seen better days pulled into the lot and parked. Somehow, he hadn’t pictured Glory arriving in such a mundane fashion. The driver’s door opened and a familiar, bulky figure climbed out.

Sergeant Morgan gave them a genial wave as if he was just dropping by for a chat, then moved immediately to the trunk and began handing out weapons to the other who got out behind him. 

“Well, this is unexpected,” Spike commented. Buffy and he exchanged puzzled looks, then shrugged and went to greet the newcomers. Rupert was already at the car, shaking hands and asking questions.

There were five of them, all familiar faces. Sergeant Morgan lifted a club the size of a small tree out of the car’s trunk and rested it on his shoulder, giving them a shit-eating grin at their surprise. “Xander said you could use some back up.”

“Xander was right,” Giles said firmly. “Thank you all for coming.”

Xander had done well. Sizing up their unexpected help, Spike realized that all of them were either stronger and healed faster than humans. Sergeant Morgan was Kobarien, human-normal as far as strength went - although at the high end of the scale, but able to absorb a lot of damage without being rendered unable to fight. Tiirpok was full-blood Inajii, his frail looking body was deceptively strong and Spike wasn’t sure Inajii’s could even be injured. The half-Ferschiff demon had been with them in the battles at the Mayor’s Ascension and the Initiative. Not as strong as the other two, she healed quickly and had the speed and agility to avoid most killing blows. He didn’t know the other two very well - a half E’tofskoni demon who often took a patrol shift and one of Xander’s old customers. Lrtokk blood, Spike guessed, from the faint smell of rotting flesh that clung to him and the hint of dark green shadowing the prominent veins of his neck. Lrtokk weren’t fighters by choice but they were strong as the proverbial bull and their skin was a leathery armor, protecting them from anything but major damage.

As far as distractions for a pissy hellgod went, they’d do as well as anyone in town. 

Buffy was eyeing the Inajii demon dubiously and Spike wondered if they had time for a demonstration. Do the Slayer a world of good to have her arse kicked by something that looked like a stiff wind could blow him over. 

“Xander tell you the drill?” he asked.

Sergeant Morgan nodded. “You have point, we’re just the relief. Between all of us,” his gesture included Buffy and Spike as well as the demons with him, “we should be able to keep her here and fighting until she tires enough to turn human.” He looked enquiringly at Giles. “Xander said you had no idea how long it would take for her to tire?”

“I’m afraid not.” Rupert grimaced apologetically. “So far, we haven’t been able to keep fighting her for more than a few minutes. We could conceivably be talking hours, although hopefully that is a pessimistic estimate.”

Sergeant Morgan just shrugged his massive shoulders. “I guess we’ll find out the hard way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One moment they were alone, their recently arrived backup already having difficulty with the pace or relax dilemma. Then the E’tofskoni hybrid was racing back in from his turn patrolling the woods, signaling for them to be ready. He skidded to a halt near them, panting from his run. 

“Ten or more demons coming in. They match your description of Glory’s minions: short, brown robes, carrying weapons, mostly swords,” he reported crisply as Sergeant Morgan had taught all the patrol demons. 

“That’s them,” Buffy said. “Any sign of Glory?”

The E’tofskoni shook his head and they spread out in a defensive line facing the woods.

The minions weren’t trying to be quiet, crashing through the underbrush with careless disregard of stealth and it was Buffy who first realized that there was method to their amateur approach.

“Coming in from the side,” she warned.

Spike cursed and swung around, trying to listen above what he now realized was a deliberate cover of noise. “Both sides, and the front,” he confirmed.

There were at least twenty of them, Spike saw in an instant, maybe as many as thirty, all of them carrying swords or axes. Coming in from all sides, trying to encircle the defenders. Their own response was initially ragged as they hadn’t expected this but all of them were too experienced to be caught off guard for long, and they moved into a defensive circle, facing outwards.

Glory wasn’t visible and Spike wasted a moment hanging back, trying to find her. What he saw instead was Rupert, on his feet, weapon in hand, hurrying in their direction. Impatiently, he signaled the man to stay back by the camper and guard the two magic workers. They didn’t need one slightly-over-the-hill Watcher to help with this band of misfits.

“Keep an eye out for Glory,” Buffy said tensely as they waited for the minions to come.

Spike rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Slayer. Because none of us would have remembered that.” He hefted the heavy iron bar he’d brought to fight Glory, thinking the length and weight would serve him well for an opponent who was impervious to cutting and stabbing weapons, wishing he’d brought an ax instead. He hadn’t counted on having to deal with Glory’s scabby little minions.

The minions attacking saved him from her reply. They came in a wave, as if hoping to overrun them by sheer numbers. Either they didn’t recognize an Inajii demon or were so gung ho about serving Glory that they didn’t care. Tiirpok moved with the fluid grace of his kind, ducking a sword swipe aimed at his neck. His return kick was powerful enough to send the minion flying backwards ten feet, landing so hard his body formed a small crater in the concrete. Granted the concrete was old and split with cracks, but it was still an impressive move and Spike saw Buffy - who was running to defend the frail looking demon - stop cold, her jaw dropping in shock. Shaking her head, she moved back into position, obviously deciding that Tiirpok could handle himself.

All the demons could. Sergeant Morgan was laying about him with his enormous club, calm as if occupied with nothing more than batting practice at a girl’s softball game. The Ferschiff demon had dropped her claws out and was attacking with her natural weapons, the three-inch claws having already disemboweled her first opponent, who lay screaming at her feet, clutching his shredded guts. The young E’tofskoni was handling himself well, putting a two-handed axe to good use. Xander’s customer was swinging a baseball bat clumsily but with such force that Glory’s minions were hanging back, waiting for an opening. 

His distraction cost him as an ax bit deeply into his side. The wound healed the moment the blade was jerked free, but the force of the blow staggered him to the side and he had to drop and roll to avoid a second blow. He bounced back to his feet and slammed the end of the iron bar into the minion’s stomach. The bar slid into soft flesh and out the other side and Spike braced his foot against the screaming minion’s chest to push him away as he yanked the bar out and swung at another opponent as the first dropped to the ground, already coughing up blood.

He risked a quick glance at the camper as the second minion jumped back to avoid the first one’s fate. Rupert was standing on the steps, watching the battle anxiously, but still keeping an eye out for danger to his charges. Nothing moved in that area, the minions were ignoring the camper entirely and their was still no sign of Glory.

Something was wrong. Glory had never hung back from a fight. Never let her minions do her work for her. Spike spun to avoid a sword thrust, the shining metal slipping past him as he dodged, bringing the heavy iron bar around in a vicious swing at the minions head. He cursed as the minion ducked, the bar humming as it parted the air just over the short demon’s head. He kicked the minion in the chest before it could stab at him again and snatched the sword out of its grip. He tested the edge on the minion and it proved to be serviceably sharp, biting deeply into flesh before it jarred on bone. He yanked it out and the minion crumpled to the ground in a pool of blood-stained brown robes. 

Spike checked the others quickly. The Slayer was fighting in deadly earnest, taking out days of frustration on two very battered looking minions, punching and kicking them with a vengeful fury that Spike could relate to. The others were holding their own with ease, and nearly half of the minions were already on the ground, dead or out of commission for a good long time.

Bending down, he grabbed the minion at his feet by the robes and dragged him into the center of their circle, noting with approval that Sergeant Morgan and the Ferschiff demon automatically moved to close the gap in their lines. Spike dropped his sword and shook the minion violently.

“Where the fuck is Glory?” he demanded. “Too good to do her own dirty work?”

The minion smiled, despite the gaping wound in his abdomen. “It is an honor to die in the service of Glorificus.”

Spike snarled. “Don’t give yourself airs. You aren’t going to die for a long time. And every moment you live is going to be screaming agony.”

“Her magnificent splendidness will remember my sacrifice as she returns home.”

“And when is that?” Spike growled, shaking the minion like a terrier with a rat.

“Too soon for you to stop it,” the minion gasped when Spike stopped shaking him. “The preparations are complete.” Despite his obvious pain and the blood pouring out from between his fingers, the minion looked triumphant.

“Don’t got her precious Key, does she? Can’t do the sodding ritual without that.”

“She will return home and her followers will be rewarded a thousand fold.” the minion said faintly, almost like a prayer.

Spike felt the shock of sudden understand go through him. His hand tightened on the minion’s robes as he cursed viciously. “She’s gone to fetch the Key herself. That’s why she’s not here, innit?”

The minion’s smile was all the answer he needed and Spike reached down and snapped his neck, dropping the body before it had ceased breathing and yelling across to Buffy: “Slayer! Let’s go - Glory’s at the mansion.”

Buffy froze, then jerked around to face him, her face going white. Forgetting everything else, she turned and sprinted across the battlefield, heading for the mansion. Spike hesitated just long enough to snap to Sergeant Morgan: “You guys finish off this lot. Glory’s somewhere else.” before turning and running after the Slayer. 

The camper they’d arrived in was too slow by far. Glory had played them for fools and their ambush had been turned against them. Her minions were nothing more than expendable diversions to keep them away from Glory’s real intention - stealing the Key.

~~~~~~

The two of them raced through the woods, the Slayer’s harsh panting loud even against the sound of their pounding feet as they took the most direct route to the mansion. Branches slashed across their faces as they dodged tree trunks, hurdling bushes and fallen tree trunks. The woods were thinning in front of them and the ground rose rapidly. At the top of the hill, Spike caught a glimpse of open ground. If he was right, it was the road leading back to town. Their shortcut through the woods had cut over a mile off the distance and, from here, the road was the shortest route.

They scrambled up the steep bank together, the Slayer keeping pace with him. Which was good, useful against Glory or not, he wasn’t waiting for her. He cursed as his feet sank into the soft ground near the top and he caught at the metal barrier that lined the road, using it to drag himself free and onto the road. A second later, he was running down the road, the Slayer at his heels.

There was a horn blaring behind them and the sound of a racing engine. As much as he didn’t have time for anything but reaching Xander, Spike couldn’t ignore a potential danger at his flank. He threw a hasty glance over his shoulder and his pace slackened slightly in surprise. The motor home was barely 50 feet behind them and, as he automatically slowed, it pulled up beside them with a screech of brakes and the door was shoved open from inside.

“Get in the bloody car, you idiots!” Rupert yelled at them.

Spike glared at him furiously. “My grandmother could outrun that thing,” he snarled.

Rupert gave him a fierce smile, something reckless and wild burning in his eyes. “Not with me driving she couldn’t.”

Spike believed him. He and Buffy scrambled on board and Rupert put his foot down, sending the Winnebago careening down the road like a sports car. Under other circumstances, Spike would have enjoyed this ride and even now, he couldn’t help but be reluctantly impressed. Rupert had the camper going three times the speed limit, swaying dangerously as he recklessly took curves without slowing, sideswiping parked cars and blaring the horn to chase pedestrians out of their path, all without so much as a flicker of apology crossing his face. 

Buffy dropped to a seat, her harsh panting the only sound as Spike realized that, in addition to Tara and Rayne, Morgan and Tiirpak were in the back of the camper with them.

“The other three can handle Glory’s minions,” Sergeant Morgan told him, the worry in his eyes belying his habitual calm. 

Spike nodded, bracing himself against the wild swaying of the camper as Rupert took a curve at speeds the lumbering vehicle was never designed for, then: “Bloody fucking hell!” he swore sharply as he remembered he had a way to reach Xander. Cursing himself for an idiot, he hastily fumbled in his pockets, coming up with his cell phone a moment later. The plastic was cracked and flipping it open just sent the top spinning across the camper. He swore again and pitched the useless thing violently away from him, finishing the job that landing on top of it during the battle had started.

“Any of you lot got a cell phone?” he asked and was met with shaking heads. Spike forced himself to calm down. It would only be a couple of minutes until they reached the mansion.

Tara and Rayne were clinging to handholds, trying to avoid being flung about the interior. Tara was white-faced and panicked - not by the ride but the danger to the witch, while Rayne looked like he was thoroughly enjoying himself, staring at Rupert lecherously as if he was thinking about telling him to pull over and shag. Rupert on the other hand had lost that fleeting expression of wildness and his expression was grimly determined as he drove, intent on getting back to the mansion in time to save the ones they’d left behind.

Buffy had said nothing about the utter recklessness of the way Rupert was driving, instead urging him to go faster, as terrified as Spike about what they were going to find at the mansion. They’d left behind their most vulnerable and most precious people, in their arrogant certainty that they were safe behind the wards that Tara and Ethan had erected. Now, they all feared the same thing: that they would return to lifeless bodies and Dawn missing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dawn screamed as they burst through the front door of the mansion, slamming through it with enough force to send the door banging into the wall, pieces of plaster falling in a spatter onto the stone floor. A second scream followed hers, trailing off into a burse of gibberish. The sounds came from the patio garden and Spike sprinted across to the French doors and flung them wide.

He skidded to a halt at the sight confronting him, feeling Buffy slam into him from behind, but his attention never wavered from the courtyard.

Xander, Dawn and Joyce were all staring at him, wide-eyed with surprise and the beginning of fear, Xander was between the women and the doors, having obviously thrown himself, weaponless, in front of them to protect them from whatever was entering the mansion. Joyce and Dawn had their hands full, trying to quiet and comfort the witch despite their own obvious fear at the abrupt entrance.

“What is it?” Xander asked sharply. Spike’s eyes swept the courtyard, seeing nothing out of place. From the scattered plates and glasses, it looked like they’d been having a late lunch. 

“Is everyone ok?” Buffy asked. Like Spike, she was scanning the garden for signs of trouble, frowning a bit as nothing but their own entrance seemed to be disturbing the mansion.

“Of course, Buffy. Why wouldn’t we be?” Joyce asked, then was forced to turn back to the witch who was crying out about needing to be somewhere. Tara hurried across the flagstones to gather the witch in her arms, rocking her and shushing her quietly, trying to calm her down. 

“You haven’t seen any sign of Glory?” Spike was beginning to get a bad feeling about this. Like they had been played for fools. If the minions had been telling the truth, Glory should have been and gone. And Glory wasn’t subtle. Not exactly the sneaking around quietly type. You knew when she’d been there. 

“No, of course not.” Xander shook his head emphatically as Buffy hurried past him to hug her mother, her body shaking with relief. Xander’s eyes took in the dust and blood on their clothing and the unmistakable signs of battle. “She didn’t show?”

“Just her minions.” Spike’s sense that something was wrong was too intense to ignore. “Come on, all of you, we’re getting out of here.”

The Slayer looked back at him from her mother’s arms. “Why?” she asked sharply. “What do you know?”

“Got a bad feeling,” was all Spike could tell her, but it was enough. Buffy started moving immediately, herding her mother and Dawn into the mansion. “Everyone, grab some food and anything you need for the next couple of days. We’re leaving in five minutes,” she ordered and everyone scrambled to obey. Xander grabbed the stack of grocery bags and began shoveling the contents of the refrigerator and freezer into them, while the others scattered for the bedrooms. Spike moved to secure their weapons, while Rupert and Rayne began hurriedly packing up the books.

Four minutes later, they were all gathered in the living room again, arms full of hastily packed supplies. “Let’s go!” Spike said sharply. The mansion no longer felt like a safe haven. It felt like a trap, just waiting to snap shut on them.

The others were picking up on his sense of urgency and they all moved quickly towards the front door and the dubious safety of the Winnebago waiting outside. Before they could finish crossing the room, the French doors to the garden were jerked open with such force they were torn from their hinges, the two glass-paned doors tossed backwards into the courtyard in a cacophony of shattering glass. Glory stood framed in the opening, smiling in that perky, psychotic cheerleader way of hers. She settled her hands on her hips and tilted her head.

“Looks like the gang’s all here,” she said, her chipper tones more frightening than any menacing growl. “Now we just have to sort out which one of you is my Key.”


	39. Chapter 39

For a long moment, no one moved, frozen in place where they stood, boxes and bags in hand, all of them staring back at Glory in shock. Xander was afraid to breathe, afraid to blink, afraid that even the slightest twitch would send his eyes tracking to Dawn. It felt like they were poised on the edge of a precipice. Any second now, the situation was going to explode into violence and they had to get Joyce and Dawn and Ethan out of here before that happened. Ethan’s spell ingredients were still in the camper. He’d said it would only take a couple of minutes to do the spell, but they had to buy him the time to do that before Glory killed them all.

“Gonna pay for those doors, bitch.” Not surprisingly, Spike was the first to speak and Xander broke his own frozen stillness, his head snapping around to see Spike striding toward Glory, snatching a heavy battle axe out of the bag of weapons he’d been carrying, dropping the bag to the floor, heedless of the clash of metal that followed, his coat flaring behind him as he moved, already shifted to his true face, yellow eyes fixed on Glory - doing everything he could to hold Glory’s attention as he crossed the room with rapid strides.

It broke them all out of their paralysis. Using Spike’s movement as cover, Xander frantically gestured for Tara to take Willow and go. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Buffy drop the box she was carrying and grab her mom and Dawn, pulling them with her as she ran for the front door.

Impossibly, Glory was suddenly there, blocking their exit, sending Tara and Willow reeling backwards as they almost collided with her at the entrance. Buffy instantly reversed directions, keeping herself between Glory and her family as she backed away from the door. Xander saw Spike spinning around, charging towards them as Buffy threw a desperate glance towards the back door. Xander could see the sick realization in her eyes that she’d never make it as she looked back at Glory, still clinging desperately to Dawn and Joyce’s hands.

“Now, Buffy,” Glory chided her, ignoring Tara and Willow. “If I wanted anyone to leave, you’d know by them being thrown through the window already.” Without taking her eyes off Buffy, she brought her fist around at the exact right moment to slam into Spike’s face, knocking him across the room. “I told you, Buffy, that the next time we met, someone you loved was going to die bloody. Lots of candidates here unless someone starts talking.”

Before Buffy could answer, Glory staggered and spun around as a small figure hit her from the rear.

“Hey!” she snapped and Xander saw that it was Tiirpok. The demon leapt up and kicked Glory in the face, snapping her head back. He landed lightly and launched another kick at her mid-section. Glory caught his foot and flipped him backwards and Xander watched in disbelief as the frail-looking, white-haired demon somersaulted in mid-air, somehow managing to get in another kick before twisting with cat-like grace to land on his feet, poised and ready to attack. Sgt. Morgan was there as well, swinging his club with the speed and power lent by his Kobarian warrior ancestors. Glory ducked the first swing, and caught the club on the return swing, using it as a fulcrum to send the big sergeant sailing across the room. He crashed into Spike who had been scrambling back to the fight, knocking Spike off his feet, the Sergeant’s massive frame tangling with Spike’s smaller body, sending both of them sliding across the stone floor until they slammed into the far wall. 

Glory brushed off her dress. “Rude. Attacking from behind. This is a designer label, you know.”

Buffy had Dawn and Joyce almost to the back door, using the fight as distraction, but Glory blurred and was across the room again, blocking the exit. 

“I thought I was clear, Buffy. Nobody leaves,” she said. “Not until I have my Key.” 

Buffy backed away, shoving her mom and Dawn behind her as she moved. The rest of them moved closer together, forming a defensive knot. Xander saw Giles whisper something to Ethan, who nodded and dropped back through the group, edging closer to the front door as he moved. Buffy, Spike and the two demons lined up in front of the others, facing Glory with battle-ready stances.

Glory glared at them, tapping her foot impatiently. “Tick fricking tock, people. I’m a little pressed for time here,” she snapped. She stepped forward, her eyes sweeping over all of them. “Either someone tells me who the Key is in the next ten seconds or people start dying.”

She waited, eyebrows raised, watching them all and Xander could almost feel Dawn shaking beside him as the seconds stretched past. Joyce broke the impasse, stepping forward, moving subtly in front of Dawn as she did.

“I’m the Key,” she said defiantly.

Xander’s grab was too slow and Glory’s triumphant smile had barely begun to spread before Dawn jumped forward, grabbing Joyce’s arm and holding on hard. “Mom, no! It’s me,” she told Glory desperately. “I’m the Key.”

“Not interested in a remake of Spartacus, people.” Glory’s eyes swept them again, and Xander could tell she was trying to sense which one of them was the Key and it was all he could do not to snatch Dawn and shove her behind him. “Don’t any of you little crap-gnats appreciate that I have a schedule to keep?” she complained. “And your ten seconds are up.” She reached out and grabbed Dawn by the hair, yanking her towards herself with brutal strength as Dawn gasped and struggled futilely. “Start talking or the whelp is the first to die.”

Spike’s angry roar was almost drowned out by Buffy’s furious shout. They attacked as one, converging on Glory from both sides. Glory laughed and threw Dawn into Spike who caught her and spun her away as Buffy flew at Glory, punching, kicking, pummeling her with everything she had.

Sgt. Morgan and Tiirpok attacked as well and Xander grabbed Dawn and Joyce and shoved them towards the door. “Go!” 

~~~~~

Freed of the necessity of protecting Dawn, Spike leapt forward, bringing his axe around in front of him in a vicious arc that never connected. Glory snatched the weapon from him, twisting it out of his hands and backhanding him across the room in the same motion. 

He hadn’t even hit the floor yet when Buffy was there, grabbing Glory’s arm and yanking her around to meet her fist. Spike hit the ground and rolled back to his feet, seeing the Slayer being sent flying through the shattered doors to land hard on the flagstoned terrace outside. The Inajii got there before Spike, forcing Glory to deal with him and stopping her from following the humans out the door. 

Tiirpok lasted almost 20 seconds before Glory tossed him, and Spike launched himself back into the fray, determined to outlast the demon’s time. He spun and kicked, and kept moving, slamming a punch into her face as he came back around. Ducking her return blow, he came up under her guard and caught her with an uppercut that staggered her a step back. She countered instantly, grabbing his arm and throwing him with that unbelievable strength of hers, sending him flying through the doors where the Slayer conveniently broke his fall.

Sergeant Morgan stepped into the breach with that enormous club, getting in one solid blow that actually lifted Glory off her feet and sent her crashing into the table. She lashed out with her foot and Spike winced as he saw the stiletto heel sink deep into the big Kobarian’s abdomen. The Sergeant swore, his club dropping as his hands went instinctively to his gut, and Glory slammed her fist into him before any of the rest of them could get there. The Sergeant dropped to his knees and Tiipak slammed his feet into Glory with a double-footed kick that knocked her away from Morgan. Spike and Buffy attacked again, keeping Glory busy while Tiirpok pulled Morgan away from the fight.

It was working. The four of them weren’t doing any damage, but they were stopping Glory from leaving, buying time for the others to get away. Morgan was down but not yet out, slowly staggering back to his feet and reaching for the club that Tiirpok handed him. The Inajii was still uninjured, the Slayer was bleeding from a cut over her eye and limping slightly, but her grim determination to protect her family was undimmed and, thanks to the Gem, Spike himself felt ready to go another 20 rounds - which would probably be necessary as Glory wasn’t showing signs of fatigue yet.

~~~~~~

Giles grabbed his arm, slowing him as they ran for the camper. “Take my car,” he said, pressing a set of keys into his hand. “We’ll stay here and do the spell while you get the others to safety.”

Xander closed his hand around the set of keys, feeling them digging into his palm as he nodded. “Be careful,” he said.

Giles gave him a feral grin. “Always.”

Ethan was already climbing down from the camper with an armful of the spell ingredients and Tara gently disengaged Willow’s arms from around her waist, passing her to Xander. Willow whimpered, trying to cling on to Tara, who paused long enough to press her palm lovingly to Willow’s face. “I love you, Willow,” she said with quiet intensity, “and I’m going to get you back.”

“I’ll keep her safe,” Xander promised, but Tara was already hurrying over to help Ethan. Giles took up a defensive stance in front of them, sword in hand, obviously intending to defend them to his last breath.

“Xander?” Dawn asked shakily and Xander forced himself to look away from the three, hating abandoning them but knowing Giles was right. 

“Forget the camper. Giles’ car is just down the block,” he said briskly. As a precaution, Giles had been parking his car several houses down from the mansion.

“Where are we going?” Joyce asked, moving to help Xander coax Willow along as she hung back, her eyes fixed on Tara.

“Away from here,” he told her. He made an impatient sound and swung Willow up into his arms, and began running down the driveway with Dawn and Joyce at his heels. 

They reached the car and Dawn balked, even as Xander was pretty much shoving Willow inside as she struggled against him, crying out that it was “Time!”

“We can’t do this,” Dawn said tearfully, looking back up the driveway. “We can’t just leave them.”

“Dawn, honey,” Joyce began.

“NO! This is wrong. We should stay together.” Dawn looked at them pleadingly. “We can’t leave them like this.”

“Dawn!” Xander said, grabbing her and shaking her lightly. “This is the only thing we can do.” He gentled his voice and hands, because everything inside him agreed with her, and he hated running out on the others as much as she did. “This isn’t about you. This is about the whole world. If Glory gets her hands on you, you’re not the only one who’s going to die. We can’t let that happen.”

Dawn bit her lip, then reluctantly nodded. “Ok.”

“Good girl.” Xander gave her a quick, fierce hug. “Let’s go.”

They piled into the car and Xander slid behind the wheel, turning the engine on and peeling out like a pack of hellhounds were after them. Or just a pissed-off hellgod. He spent more time looking in the rear view mirror than out the front for the first few blocks, panicked about that speed of Glory’s. If she got away from the others… He had no idea how long and how far she could do the superspeed thing and just hoped she couldn’t do laps around the globe like Superman could.

Ten blocks later, with no sign of Glory, he relaxed slightly and began thinking again. Joyce was sitting silently beside him, Dawn was talking soothingly to Willow in the backseat and Xander quietly pressed the child-proof lock button, ensuring that Willow couldn’t jump out of the car. 

He needed to get the three women somewhere safe, somewhere they could hide until the others defeated Glory or until the time for the ritual had come and gone. Glory’s time was running out, she’d as much as admitted it back at the mansion. The Knights had said the time for the ritual was near. Would have been nice if someone could have come up with an exact date, but he was pretty sure they only had a day or two to go, especially if Willow’s increasing agitation was somehow connected to Glory. She kept talking about how it was “Time” and a “big day” and that she had “some place to be”. 

“Where are we going?” Joyce asked quietly.

He made up his mind. “A hotel,” he said firmly. “I’m going to stash you three and go back.”

“Xander…”

“No, it makes sense,” he insisted. “We still don’t know if Glory can track Dawn away from the hellmouth, and a nice, anonymous hotel where we pay cash and make sure no one sees you…” His voice trailed off sheepishly, and he looked over at Joyce. “Umm, how much money do you have on you?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is that the best you little crap-gnats can muster?” Glory asked, straightening up as Buffy scrambled inelegantly back to her feet. 

“We’re just getting started,” she retorted breathlessly.

“Well, I’m a little bored now,” Glory told her. “And I need to fetch my Key.”

She kicked Buffy in the stomach, then backhanded her hard, sending her flying across the room again. Spike ran forward and Glory bent and snatched up a piece of wood from one of the chairs that had been smashed from bodies falling on it. She strode past Spike as if he wasn’t there, slamming the chair leg into his chest with careless ease as she passed him, heading for the front door. The piece of wood sank deeply into his chest, knocking him off his feet. She didn’t even glance back to see him turned to dust, tossing Tiirpok away when he attacked her and Spike realized that she had pretty much been playing with them up until now. Now she was deadly serious and intent on tracking down the humans in their party, knowing one of them had to be the Key.

Spike scrambled back to his feet and yanked the stake out, the wound closing instantly as soon as the stake was removed from his flesh. He sent the chair leg whistling through the air to strike the back of Glory’s head just before she made it to the front door.

“Think a god would have better aim,” he said loudly and Glory spun around, momentarily distracted.

“I am a god,” she said, her eyes flashing. 

“Maybe where you came from you were,” Spike conceded, striding towards her, “but in our world, you’re an idiot. I mean, I just had no idea that gods were such prancing lightweights.”

Glory’s face darkened and she swung at him hard, her hand a blur as it came at him. He didn’t have time to move, much less duck, before her fist connected and he was thrown backwards to slam hard into the far wall, hitting with such force that he was half-buried in the plasterboard.

“Good plan, Spike,” he told himself, pushing out of the body-shaped crater he found himself in. He started forward again just as Glory screamed, her body enveloped in a burst of power. Lightning flashed and sparks darted before his eyes as power crackled and blew around the room like an electrical storm from hell. 

It ended as suddenly as it began and Glory staggered, dropping to her knees and shaking her head. “What the fucking hell did you people do to me?!” she gasped. She braced herself against the wall and staggered to her feet. “You made a hole. I need a brain to eat…”

“We’ll get right on that,” Buffy told her.

Glory seemed to pull herself together a little. “I suppose I could always use yours.”

“Come and get it then,” Buffy invited.

Enough of this, Spike thought impatiently. As promised, Glory was momentarily disoriented. If the spell had worked as it was supposed to, it should have sucked out of Glory the energy she took from others. Given her comments about needing to eat, it seemed likely it had worked. Now was their best shot at taking her down and the Slayer was pissing it away with chitchat. 

He launched a two-footed kick at Glory, his boots slamming into her chest and knocking her off her feet. Spike landed in a crouch, then bounced back to his feet. He spun around, bringing his leg up and around in a kick aimed at her head, overjoyed when the kick landed. The spell had disoriented Glory, he thought with savage pleasure. 

Glory shook off the two kicks and got back to her feet, moving much more slowly than usual. “That spell really slowed me down,” she complained. 

Buffy swung a punch, which landed hard, snapping Glory’s head back, then Tiirpok was there and the three of them attacked Glory from three sides, more and more of their blows landing as Glory had lost much of her ability to dodge. From the corner of his eye, Spike saw Sgt. Morgan bending down painfully to pick up his club and join them.

A particularly vicious kick from Tiirpok to the back of Glory’s leg dropped the hellgod to her knees and Sgt. Morgan slammed his enormous club down against her head. She dropped to the ground, rolling on her back to face them, and Morgan brought the club down a second, then a third time. Glory tried to roll away, but Buffy’s kick stopped her and Spike saw with a pleased start that Glory was bleeding. 

They’d actually succeeded in hurting her. He kicked her viciously in the face, and skin split and blood began trickling down her cheek.

“Stop!” she said desperately.

“You’re a god,” Buffy told her. “Make us stop.” She drew back her foot for another quick and Glory seemed to almost shimmer for a moment, then suddenly morphed to a dark-haired male who looked decidedly odd in Glory’s dress and strappy sandals.

Buffy faltered, halting her incipient quick. “Ben?” she said, sounding shocked.

“Know him, do you?” Spike asked. 

“He… he works at the hospital,” Buffy told him, staring down at the bloody face of the man.

“I’m sorry…” the man said, staring dazedly up at them.

Buffy looked torn. “Tell Glory it’s over,” she said quietly. She missed her shot. She goes. If she ever, EVER, comes near me and mine again…”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Spike exclaimed. He kicked the man, cutting off the beginning of his promise to leave town and never come back. “You think Glory’s going to keep a promise? Or that this idiot can control her? Even if she’s missed her shot this time, she’ll still be around the next time the moon’s in the right phase, or the stars line up, or whatever the hell tells her it’s time to fuck with us again.”

“Spike…,” she began.

“No! We agreed. He dies. If you won’t do it, then I will.” He reached down, intending to snap the man’s neck, but Sgt. Morgan laid a hand on his arm.

“I’ll do it,” he said quietly, his eyes steady on Spike. “You made a promise to Xander that I don’t want you to have to break, even for the best of reasons.” He shrugged slightly, then winced as the movement pulled at his gut wound. “I’ve killed in the name of my country and I’m the one who can best stand up to scrutiny if anyone finds out what happened here.”

Spike nodded and stepped back. Buffy bit her lip but didn’t say anything as Sgt. Morgan bent down painfully to address the man. “Son, I’m sorry, but we simply can’t leave you alive to threaten our world again.” 

Without further ado, he simply closed one big hand around the man’s neck, ignoring the beginnings of a plea for mercy, and pressed down, cutting off his air. It was over in a minute, the man struggled feebly, clawing at the hand around his throat, then went limp. Spike couldn’t help thinking that it would have been a quicker death if he’d just snapped the guy’s neck, but he didn’t care if the man suffered.

Sgt. Morgan straightened up slowly, his eyes unreadable. “We’ll need to dispose of the body,” he said quietly.

“We’ll take care of it,” Rupert said quietly from the doorway. “You look like you shouldn’t be on your feet.”

Turning, Spike saw Glinda and the mage and Rupert, all watching them from the doorway. There were lines of fatigue etching the Chaos Mage’s face and Glinda’s eyes held barely-restrained hope. The spell, Spike thought, he didn’t know if it had worked the way it was supposed to or not, but it had sure done the trick for allowing them to kick Glory’s arse. “Nice light-show,” he told them.

They’d done it. He realized. They’d beaten a god. He threw back his head and laughed with sheer exuberance that had the humans looking at him like he’d lost his mind. He ignored them. They’d killed a fucking god. Nobody else he knew could make that claim. He was going to be the most legendary vampire in history for this.


	40. Chapter 40

Xander was driving more cautiously now, not wanting to be pulled over for speeding. One thing you could say about Sunnydale’s finest - they might be unbelievably eager to overlook the number of exsanguinated bodies left lying around but they sure liked handing out the speeding tickets. There had been no sign of Glory following them, so they had all relaxed a little, except for Willow. Dawn was doing her best, but Willow was upset and uncooperative and very unhappy about not being able to open the door. Xander was just grateful for the child-proof locks on Giles’ car. 

“Hang in there, Dawn,” he called over his shoulder, wincing as Willow tried to slap Dawn and Dawn just managed to block in time, struggling to pin Willow’s hands down. “We’ll be there soon.”

They were well across town from the mansion, heading for a small hotel on the outskirts of the business district. Nice enough to stash Dawn in but not a place that would question customers who paid in cash and registered as John Smith. Not that he was really planning on using that name, but something similarly bland and forgettable. Bob Johnson maybe. 

A blue flash lit the car and Xander swore, stamping on the brakes instinctively as he was blinded temporarily, bringing the car to a shuddering halt and slamming the gearshift into neutral as he blinked frantically, trying to clear his vision. There was the blare of a horn and someone swooped past them, yelling an obscenity, but Xander had no time for even justifiably irritated fellow drivers.

“What’s happening?” Dawn’s voice was frightened and Xander twisted around in his seat, squinting at Willow who was lit up by a glow of power, her body convulsing as Dawn bravely tried to keep hold of her so she didn’t hurt herself.

“It’s the spell,” Xander exclaimed. “It’s working!”

Ignoring the fact that the car was still blocking the road, he scrambled out and yanked open the back door, catching Willow in his arms as she fell through the opening, just as the blue lightning died around her.

“Willow?”

She didn’t respond. Her whole body was trembling uncontrollably and he eased her the rest of the way down, pulling her into his lap as he sat down on the pavement. 

“Willow?” 

She heard him that time, turning her head slightly to look up at him with confused eyes.  
He wrapped himself around her small body, rocking her, one hand carding through her tangled hair, only peripherally aware of Dawn and Joyce crouched beside them as he prayed silently that the spell had worked. “Willow?” 

“Xander?” she said weakly.

His arms tightened around her as she shook with reaction. “You’re back,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “We got you back.” He heard Dawn’s happy exclamation but he had no time for anything but his oldest friend. 

Her arms closed around him convulsively and she buried her face in his chest. “Oh, Xander. I got so lost.”

“Shhhh,” he crooned softly, “everything’s going to be alright. You’re back.”

~~~~~~~

It was Joyce who finally separated them, gently coaxing them to stand, reminding him that they were in the middle of the street and beginning to draw a crowd. 

That got through to Xander. Crowds were bad. They couldn’t draw attention to themselves. He stood up, bringing Willow with him, and steadying her as she clung to him, still looking disoriented but more just woken up confusion than brain-sucked mindlessness.

“We can go back,” Dawn was saying, hovering over them, patting Willow wherever she could reach and looking like she wanted to shove Xander out of the way so she could hug Willow herself. He didn’t blame her but he wasn’t ready to let go yet, something inside of him terrified that, if he didn’t hold onto Willow she would slip through his fingers again. He needed to pull himself together, because they couldn’t just stand here in the middle of the street forever.

“Go back?” he asked Dawn blankly.

“To the mansion,” she said impatiently. “The spell worked, so they’re ok.”

“The mansion,” he repeated, his brain still not really functioning, then reality caught up with him. “No!” At Dawn’s startled step back, he shot a look of appeal to Joyce, already beginning to ease Willow towards the back seat.

“Dawn, the spell was just the first step,” Joyce reminded her. “We can’t go back until we know Glory has been defeated.” 

“But…”

“No, Dawn,” Xander said firmly. “We can’t risk it. We still need to keep you hidden. Glory could have escaped, or…” For the first time, he realized he had no idea what had happened at the campground. There hadn’t been time for any of them to explain before Glory kicked in the door. “…or she could have followers still out there who don’t know Glory’s beaten, looking to capture you,” he said grimly. “In the car, people, I’m stashing you guys at that motel.” At her mutinous look, he said reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I’m going back to check it out as soon as the three of you are safe.”

Ten minutes later, they were checked in under a false name and had promised him they wouldn’t leave until he called them. Willow had fretted, saying she was better and could maybe help, but had subsided when he gave her his ‘this is not negotiable’ look, the one that sometimes even worked on Spike. He closed the door behind him, hoping they would be safe and headed back to the mansion to check on the others.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Between the Gem of Amara and Glory’s death, Spike was feeling nothing but sheer elation, although the others had all received injuries in the fight. Sgt. Morgan had gotten the worst of it when Glory buried her 3-inch high heel in his gut. He’d lost a lot of blood and was looking as pale as a dark-complexioned human could, leaning wearily against the wall while Tiirpok wrapped a makeshift bandage around his middle, fussing at him for allowing himself to be injured.

The Slayer was being tended to by her Watcher, who was washing the deep cut over her eye. Buffy was reassuring him that she was fine and it was obvious she was humoring Rupert as she fidgeted under his care. Rayne looked almost as hyper as Spike himself felt and Spike could feel the residual magic still crackling the air around him. He looked smugly pleased with himself for pulling off the spell, although Tara was still wringing her hands, obviously torn about accepting the chaos mage’s word that the spell had worked as intended, and wanting to see with her own eyes that the little red-head was better.

Spike crossed the room to crouch down next to Sgt. Morgan. “Good work, mate. You gonna be ok?” 

“I’m good,” the sergeant told him. “Tiirpok here’s a worry-wort.” He started to heave himself to his feet and Spike and Tiirpak hastily steadied him as he winced and staggered.  
“We need to get back to the campground, check on the others,” he said. 

Tiirpak gave him a fondly exasperated look. “They had things well in hand when we left, and I’m sure they are fine. You, on the other hand, need stitches.”

Spike looked around the room as they argued about what was more important. Most of the few pieces of furniture were done for, smashed to pieces under the weight of their bodies. The walls would keep Xander busy for weeks, patching the body-shaped holes. Glory had had a fine old time tossing her enemies around the room with that astonishing strength of hers. 

Of course, as an emergency bolt hole, the mansion was done. Too many people knew about it now. Probably best to just walk away, find another one, he thought. Not like he cared about the place really.

His elation at their victory was fading, as worry about Xander took priority. “Anyone got a phone?” he asked the room at large, remembering that his own cell phone was smashed.

“I do.”

Spike turned and saw Xander standing in the doorway, a relieved smile on his face as his eyes swept the room and found them all relatively intact. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander tossed the keys to Giles’ car to Buffy. “Franklin Street Inn. Room 237. And Buffy? I really think your family and Tara and Willow should all stay there for a couple of nights. Just to be sure.” He smiled crookedly. “Call it a vacation. You know, like normal people take. Nothing but room service and rest.”

“That’s a good idea,” Giles said. “There is a small risk that Glory could be re-born into another body or that some of her minions may survive and try and use the Key for their own purposes. It would be best if we all lay low for the next two nights. If nothing has happened by then, I think it will be safe to assume the time to use the Key will have passed and we can resume our normal lives. I suggest we all keep in touch by phone on a regular schedule.”

Tiirpok and Sgt. Morgan had already left, having called someone to give them a lift. They were going to pick up the three demons they’d left behind at the campground and had promised to call if anything unexpected happened. As Buffy and Tara headed out the door together, that left only Spike, Xander, Giles and Ethan at the mansion.

“Takin’ my boy home,” Spike announced. “Be as safe as anywhere there. Mansion’s yours for the duration, if you want. Best move the RV though. Police are going to find it sooner or later.”

“Of course, it would be a stolen vehicle,” Giles muttered. “Whatever was I thinking to presume it had been acquired legally?”

Spike just smirked. “Not paying cash for something I can nick just as easy.”

“And car rental places have this crazy thing where they demand you produce a driver’s license before they’ll let you take the car,” Xander pointed out cheerfully, sliding his arm around Spike’s waist. Spike turned his smirk in Xander’s direction.

“Killed a god today, luv.” he reminded Xander, just in case he’d forgotten in the last five minutes. “Fancy a shag?”

He laughed as Xander blushed furiously, shooting a mortified look at Giles, who coughed and pretended that he hadn‘t heard.

“William the Bloody, the god-killer,” Ethan murmured sarcastically. “You’d think no one else did anything at all.” He shot a salacious look at Rupert. “Still, I’ve heard worse ideas for ways to pass the time.”

They strolled out the door and Spike’s smirk remained intact as he heard the two men’s footsteps heading for the bedroom.

“No,” Xander said firmly as they started down the driveway. Spike glanced across at him in surprise.

“No what?” he asked, puzzled.

“You are not calling yourself Spike, the god-killer. Too porn star. Cheesy porn star,” he emphasized.

“Never even crossed my mind, luv,” Spike lied shamelessly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander yawned widely, sliding back down under the sheets and snuggling in next to Spike. It was early enough that Mr. Olsen had been surprised to catch Xander half asleep already when the phone rang. He’d been very apologetic, but Xander had waived off the apologies. He didn’t usually go to sleep this early, even when he had to be on the job-site at dawn, but the relief from the unending tension of the days they’d spent at the mansion had hit him like the proverbial ton of bricks the second they’d gotten back to the familiar surroundings of their apartment. It was one of those times when he wished he had Spike’s stamina. Spike had obviously been hoping for marathon sex games and he’d felt bad when he’d admitted that he was too tired.

“Mr. Olsen says the police found the rest of the crazies - former-crazies -” he corrected himself, “in a vacant lot south of the business district.”

“Yeah?” Spike asked, not sounding very interested.

The mental patients had been gone when Mrs. Olsen had gone to the hospital. Sometime the night before, they had all escaped, breaking through their restraints and simply walking out of the hospital. It boggled Xander’s mind that nearly two dozen people in hospital gowns could just walk out the door of the hospital without someone noticing, but apparently no one saw them leave. Or at least no one was admitting they’d seen anything. Personally, he couldn’t help wondering if someone on the staff was just tired of dealing with the noisy restless patients and had turned a blind eye, hoping for a quiet shift. 

“Yeah,” Xander said, with another yawn. “Apparently the police started getting calls not long after Ethan did the spell. The patients didn’t understand where they were or why they were wearing hospital clothes, but almost all of them got better when Willow did.” He sighed. “There are a couple that were traumatized enough that Mrs. Olsen isn’t sure if they’re better or still…brain-sucked, but she’s going to keep an eye on them and see what she can do to help. The rest are being picked up by their families.”

“Good for them. Thought you were tired, luv?” Spike gave him a hopeful look. 

Xander kissed him apologetically. “Tomorrow, we’ll celebrate, ok? I’m going to the job site first thing in the morning and begging my boss to let me come back.” He sighed. “I can’t blame him if he tells me to get lost. I’ve missed a lot of shifts in the last few weeks.”

“He’ll take you back,” Spike said reassuringly. “Be daft not to. ‘Sides, not like you were playing hookie. Helping me save the world, weren’t you?”

Half-asleep already, Xander’s lips twitched. Spike wasn’t giving up on that theme any time soon. “Can’t tell him that, though, can I?” he murmured. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Xander,” was the last thing he heard before falling asleep again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander came home from work, almost bouncing with energy, despite a long day at the job site. “Spike!” He flung himself on the bed where Spike was blinking up at him sleepily. “Guess what?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I made foreman!”

“Thought you were going to be scrubbing latrines for the next week?” Spike reminded him - his own gloomy prediction that morning as he’d left for work.

Xander grinned. “Remember Mr. Olsen told us that the crazy people had all ended up in some vacant lot? Well, the police have been scratching their heads all morning because the patients built some kind of wacky tower in the middle of the lot. You should see it, it’s like a giant erector set put together by, well, crazy people. You name it, they used it to build this 60 foot tower. It’s wild!”

“Missing something, luv. This connects to your being made foreman - how?”

“My company got the contract to pull it down. The thing’s not exactly structurally sound. A good stiff wind would blow it over and the town wants it pulled down as soon as possible, if not sooner.” He grinned widely. “Apparently, my boss is punishing me for missing work by making me foreman of the crew that’s going to tear the damn thing down. I’m thinking someone may have told him about my part in blowing up the high school.” He shrugged. “On a more serious note, the tower’s got to have something to do with Glory -”

“The god I killed?” Spike interjected and Xander grinned at him. 

“Ex-god,” he pointed out.

“No such thing,” Spike told him dismissively. “Once a god, always a god. Besides, sounds better: Slayer of Slayers, Bane of Dracula, and Destroyer of hellgods.”

“Been working on that, haven’t you?” he asked, amused. “And - gods, plural? I didn’t realize Glory had a sister.” Spike growled at him and he laughed. “Ok, but reverse the order, put the god first. Makes it more impressive.” He still sounded suspiciously amused but Spike obligingly rearranged the order.

“Destroyer of hellgods, Bane of Dracula, and Slayer of Slayers. Not bad,” he decided.  
He gave Xander a smack on the ass. “Serious business this is, pet. Got a reputation to maintain.”

“That you’re the baddest vampire in the land,” Xander interrupted, rolling on top of Spike and making himself cozy. “Yeah, yeah. I got it. Of course, Buffy is claiming she killed Glory, and really, Sgt. Morgan and Tiirpok deserve at least a mention in the footnotes…”

“Bit players,” Spike assured him. 

Xander laughed and kissed him to make him shut up. “As I was saying,” he said sternly, “with all the mental patients - former mental patients,” he corrected himself with a pleased grin, “wandering around the construction site, wondering why the hell they were building a funky tower in the middle of town for no apparent reason, it has to have had something to do with the ritual. Do you think I should have Giles look at the thing before we start pulling it to pieces tomorrow?”

Spike shrugged, reaching up to brush Xander’s hair out of his eyes. “Don’t matter anymore, luv. Glory’s dead,” Xander laughed again at the shameless self-satisfaction in his lover’s voice, though this time Spike had managed to not actually say that he was the one who killed her. “Glad the loonies have recovered and all, but none of ‘em remember a damn thing you said, so they won’t be giving away any secrets about Dawn.”

Xander couldn’t help the smile that grew at that thought. It felt like he’d been smiling like an idiot all day. Once he’d almost caught himself singing ’Ding dong, the witch is dead.’ Wouldn’t that have gone over well with the crew? “She can be just a normal kid from now on. Isn’t that great?”

“Great,” Spike echoed sarcastically although he couldn’t suppress the affection in his voice. “All we have to worry about is temper tantrums, teen romances, and pimples.”

Xander relaxed against him. “That’s the best thing about being an uncle,” he said complacently. “You don’t have to deal with the messy stuff. That’s what Joyce is for.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike looked around at the tables set up on the back lawn and shook his head. Joyce had outdone herself. The tables were piled with food and the guests were a mixture of species. 

Two weeks had passed since they’d killed Glory. The tower she’d built by the ritual had been torn down and numerous patrols had shown no sign of any of her scabby little minions. If any had survived, they’d moved on. Dawn seemed to have shrugged off any worries about her true nature, bitching about Buffy not letting her go on patrol and grumbling over having to take summer classes on account of missing two weeks of school like any normal kid. 

Buffy’s laugh sent his gaze moving in her direction. She was talking with Glinda and the redhead, excitedly planning for resuming her college classes next term. There’d been some talk about Red returning to Sunnydale for the fall term. They’d never be friends, but she hadn’t upset Xander even once since she recovered her sanity, so Spike supposed he could learn to live with it if she decided to stay in town. He was even willing to admit it was nice to see Glinda so happy, her face glowing with quiet pleasure as Red absently toyed with her fingers as she talked.

Xander was talking to Rupert, explaining something about his new job, from the look of his gestures. His boy had been pleased and proud that his promotion to foreman had lasted beyond the three days necessary to tear down Glory’s crazy tower and clear the site of the debris. He was the youngest foreman on the site, which he’d explained meant he got all the easy jobs, but the rest of his time was still spent as a journeyman carpenter, and Spike almost regretted that Xander was so eager to roll out of bed at dawn every morning to leave for work.

The Gem hadn’t changed their lives as much as he’d thought. He wasn’t flaunting it in front of the Court and still lived a mostly nocturnal life. Xander still lived mostly in the sun and their lives intersected morning and afternoon. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was how it was, and Xander’s love and happiness made everything worth it.

“Sickening, isn’t it?” Rayne’s sardonic voice purred in his ear. To his surprise the chaos mage sat down in the chair next to him and proffered a bottle of beer. “American swill, of course,” he said, taking a large swallow, “but one simply must have something alcoholic to dull the pain.”

“Why’re you here then?” Spike asked, lifting his scarred brow. He took the beer and followed Rayne’s example. 

“Same reason you are,” Rayne told him. “I believe the technical term is ‘whipped’.” At Spike’s darkening glare, he shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a realist.” His eyes lingered on Rupert and a small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Still, one has to keep up appearances. And sadly, you’re about the only person here I can talk to without risking terminal niceness.”

Spike took another swallow to hide his smile. “To chaos and bloody violence,” he said, lifting his bottle. Ethan clinked his own bottle against Spike’s and they both continued to gaze at their lovers down the table. Xander turned his head at that moment and he smiled as he saw Spike watching him. 

‘Love you,’ he mouthed, then turned his head back to listen to Rupert. 

“And that’s why were both still here,” Ethan said quietly.

Spike finished his beer and leaned back comfortably in his chair. Drusilla had been right, He had found his destiny on the Hellmouth. Although he wondered if even Dru had been mad enough to see where that destiny had taken him: Master of the Hellmouth, yeah, but in love with a human, who would become his Consort in a few short months, friends with the Slayer, and picnicking with suburban housewives and demons.

He’d never been happier in his life.


	41. Chapter 41

Epilogue

Looking out the window at the clouds below, Xander relaxed for the first time since they’d boarded. It wasn’t that he was afraid of flying, just that he’d never actually been on a plane before. He was pretty damn sure that Spike hadn’t ever been on a plane before either, but the vampire had been coolness personified, glancing around the cabin with a sneer as they boarded and ordering a Jack Daniels as soon as the plane lifted off.

Two hours into the flight, well out over the Pacific, Spike had fallen asleep, slouched comfortably in his seat, leaving Xander with nothing to do but watch the clouds below and the brilliant blue of the ocean underneath them. 

He ran his hands appreciatively over the leather armrests and stretched out his long legs with a smile. Giles had insisted on upgrading their seats from economy to first class, brushing off the gift as nothing more than common sense.

“It’s a six-hour flight, Xander,” he’d pointed out. “I’m cranky and irritated after two hours in economy, and homicidal after four. Let’s not test Spike’s patience, shall we?” His eyes had crinkled at the corners as he’d said it, but Xander had appreciated the gift. While he knew Spike wouldn’t actually kill the person unlucky enough to be sitting next to him on a long flight, god knows what Spike would say to amuse himself. The mental image of the carnage that would follow the air marshals trying to arrest Spike in mid-air had erased any qualms about Giles spending too much money on them. 

He leaned his chair back and closed his eyes, not quite able to shut off his thoughts and follow Spike’s example of sleeping. They’d put off this trip for months and, even now, he could hardly believe they’d finally made it and were leaving California behind for three whole weeks.

They’d defeated Glory six months ago now, and, as far as Tara, Willow, Giles and Ethan could tell, Dawn was just Dawn now, not a mystical Key. They’d tried every spell in their collective repertoire and none of them had been able to discover anything unusual about her. Either the energy of the Key had been absorbed undetectably into her human body, or the monks’ spell was just that good. The last test had been a trip to Disneyland for the Summers’ women. They hadn’t told Dawn, but the point to the trip had been to see if taking her away from the Hellmouth made any difference.

To everyone’s relief, it hadn’t. 

Their small group were the only people who knew about the Key and they intended to keep it that way. There had been no sign of any remnants of the Knights of Byzantium, or Glory’s minions, and no one seemed interested in following Glory’s lead. Giles had told the Council that Glory was defeated, but that they had never figured out where the Key she was looking for had been hidden. 

In the meantime, Dawn had settled back into normal life, visiting her friends, and complaining bitterly about having to attend summer school to make up for the classes she’d missed while they’d been hiding from Glory. It had been great to see her gradually putting the events of last spring behind her, shrugging off the strangeness like a bad dream and accepting that she was just Dawn, beloved sister and daughter, and all-around brat, as Spike sometimes reminded her. 

It wasn’t Dawn or his job that had delayed their trip though. His promotion to foreman had meant he couldn’t take time off during their busiest season, and it had turned out to be a good thing because, in July, the town council had announced plans to rebuild the high school. Which was fine, except, being Sunnydale and the officials still being as blind stupid as ever, the town had originally planned to just bulldoze the old, bombed-out buildings and build the new school in the exact same spot. 

Xander had learned about the plans when his boss had called a meeting of all the foremen to discuss the bid they were submitting for the project. One look at the proposed design and Xander knew they had to do something. They couldn’t let the school be built smack on top of the Hellmouth again. He hadn’t even waited until his shift ended, calling Sgt. Morgan and Giles with the news as soon as he left his boss’ office. Sgt. Morgan had sent the information up the chain of command through the former Initiative soldiers, pulling every string he could to get them to relocate the new school.

It was Joyce who came up with the idea of a citizens’ campaign, petitioning the new Mayor and the town council to create a memorial on the site. Ostensibly it was for the four acknowledged victims of the “accident” at Graduation. Quietly, they had agreed between them to find a way to include Scott Ubanya’s name. Scott’s body had been taken away before the police and fire department personnel arrived, too obviously a demon to stand official scrutiny. Scott had been a Rhythhken and the planned memorial included his name as well as that of the others who died at graduation, the unfamiliar symbols hidden within abstract design elements but perfectly readable to anyone familiar with the Rhythhken writing system.

They’d built the memorial directly over the Hellmouth using funds they’d raised privately from both the demon and human communities in town. What wasn’t on the official plans was that, beneath the base of the memorial, they’d constructed a solid reinforced concrete lid. It had been designed and constructed with input from Giles and others in the know. Both mundane and magical in nature, their hope had been that the construction would seal the Hellmouth forever.

The memorial itself was in the form of a small, circular courtyard and garden with stone benches and a low wall where the names of the dead were inscribed. Willow, still in town for the summer, had suggested raising the money they needed by allowing people to purchase a tile with their name on it. The tiles were then used to pave the courtyard. Xander still wasn’t quite sure how it had happened but, instead of putting their own names on the tiles, a lot of people bought tiles and had the names of the dead inscribed. Tiles “In Loving Memory” outnumbered anything else by about ten to one. 

Xander knew exactly where Jesse’s tile had been placed. 

He’d been speechless when Willow showed it to him, running his fingers gently over the surface of the clay, until the words inscribed so neatly “Jesse McNally, always remembered” had blurred. A tear splashed on the tile beside his finger, and, looking up, he saw that Willow had tears spilling quietly down her cheeks.

The next day, for the first time, he’d taken her to Jesse’s grave in the small park, and they had spent a quiet afternoon there together, sitting side by side on the bench near the unmarked grave, Willow’s head on his shoulder and his arm around her, sharing memories of the dark-haired boy who had been their friend all through childhood. Something still broken between them had healed that day. Xander hadn’t realized how much they needed that acknowledgement of Jesse, whose death had come so close to destroying their friendship, as the final step in healing the wounds between them.

Willow had decided to go back to Oxford, but between Tara, Buffy and himself, her ties to Sunnydale remained unbroken and he knew she’d be back. In the meantime, they had email.

Pulling his thoughts back to the present, Xander unbuckled his seatbelt and slid carefully out of the seat without waking Spike. Between the three cokes and the bittersweet memories, he really needed a quick trip to the bathroom.

Washing his hands, he looked up at his reflection in the mirror and felt his excitement building again. He beamed at himself in the mirror. “We’re going to Hawaii,” he said quietly, still hardly able to believe it. 

Dropping the paper towel in the trash, he opened the door. A hand covered his mouth and Spike crowded against him, forcing him back inside the tiny space. Intensely blue eyes sparkled wickedly at him as Spike shoved the door closed behind him and locked it.

“Spike?” he asked, confused.

Spike leered at him. “Heard about this club,” he began, and Xander blinked at him in horror. 

“You don’t mean…”

Spike pounced, cutting him off in mid-sentence, shoving Xander back against the sink, his mouth devouring Xander’s aggressively, his tongue darting inside to explore as Xander responded passionately, his mouth opening beneath Spike’s. 

As suddenly as he’d begun, Spike withdrew, spinning Xander around until he was pressed against the narrow counter, staring at himself in the mirror as his zipper was tugged down by invisible hands. He gasped as Spike pulled his already half-erect cock out, closing his fist around it in a cool, tight grip as his other hand worked to yank his jeans down.

Xander couldn’t tear his eyes away from the reflection of himself in the mirror. There was something almost unbearably erotic about not being able to see the hands that were stroking his cock and pinching his nipples, bringing him quickly to full-blown arousal. He arced back into Spike wanting the confirmation from his other senses that Spike was actually there and this wasn’t just a fantasy. Spike’s chuckle in his ear as he gasped as a finger pressed inside him without warning was confirmation that he wasn’t making this up. Spike really was about to have sex with him in this tiny bathroom with a plane-load of people right outside the flimsy door.

A second finger joined the first and Xander groaned as he was stretched almost too quickly for comfort. Spike crooned reassuringly in his ear and Xander struggled to relax as the fingers inside him separated, stretching him and making him ready for Spike’s cock. His own erection was throbbing as Spike kept up a maddening rhythm, squeezing and pumping him just hard enough to drive him crazy but not hard enough or fast enough to bring him off.

His cock was leaking pre-come and jerking like a crazy thing in the mirror as Spike abruptly pulled his fingers out and Xander felt the head of Spike’s cock pressing against his stretched opening. He watched himself in the mirror, eyes dazed and heavy-lidded as Spike pushed inside with agonizing slowness. His harsh breathing was the only sound in the small room as he was penetrated, Spike’s hand still tormenting his cock as he worked Xander towards orgasm. Muscles trembling, Xander rested more and more of his weight on Spike, letting Spike hold him up as his head fell back and his eyes closed, lost in the almost unbearable pleasure of being stretched and filled.

Spike slid home and Xander whimpered as he stopped moving, his fist tightening around Xander’s erection, holding him back from the edge, until Xander was almost whimpering, needing Spike to finish it. Then Spike’s hips were moving, pulling out slowly and thrusting sharply in as his fist began pumping Xander hard and fast. Only Spike’s hand over his mouth kept Xander’s scream from escaping as he came hard, spurting the evidence of their activity all over the mirror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike watched as Xander surfaced into the brilliant sunshine and shook his wet hair out of his eyes. His Consort practically glowed with happiness as he began wading towards shore through the waist-deep water and Spike smiled as his gaze followed the streams of water cascading down Xander’s broad chest and muscular frame. Xander’s skin was darkly tanned from hours in the Hawaiian sun, and he was a feast for the eyes in the Speedo that Spike had snuck into his bags, removing the boxer-style swimsuit Xander had intended to wear. His gaze turned predatory and he felt his cock stirring at the sight of his Consort’s slim waist and broad shoulders, wet strands of his dark hair curling around his neck, the ends still sending drops of water trailing down his torso as he reached the sun-baked white sand and walked over to join Spike on the beach towel. 

“Had enough?” he asked as Xander neared. He didn’t enjoy swimming as much as Xander did, although he’d had fun the first day when he’d simply walked straight out into the ocean and kept going as the water closed over his head, freaking Xander out completely, as his boy temporarily forgot that Spike didn’t need to breathe.

Xander stood over him, dripping water onto him with a provoking smile and Spike growled and yanked him down beside him, rolling on top of his Consort’s larger frame and kissing him hard, rubbing his incipient erection against Xander’s thigh. Xander’s body was still relatively cool from the ocean and he tasted of salt and sunshine as he eagerly kissed back, sliding a hand down to Spike’s hips to pull him even closer, squirming beneath him until their cocks were aligned and they were suddenly rubbing against each other frantically, arousal building rapidly until they both came hard.

They lay there for a long moment afterwards, Xander breathing hard and Spike inhaling deeply, taking in the combined smells of sweat and sun and salt water and sex. Then Xander rolled them onto their sides, brown eyes sated and content as he ran his hand down Spike’s arm, his dark tan contrasting with Spike’s own resolutely pale skin. Despite hours spent lying in the sun watching Xander frolic in the water like a bloody fish, Spike hadn’t tanned. The Gem apparently interpreted sun tanning as an injury to be healed. He didn’t care - in fact it was probably better. Even the stupidest Court minion would know something was up if he returned to the Court looking like George Hamilton.

He didn’t expect trouble with the Court from this lengthy vacation. Unlike when he’d gone missing inside the Initiative, he’d laid the groundwork this time for a lengthy absence. The Lieutenants all knew that he was gone and when he would be back. They didn’t know why or where Spike was going, but that was because he’d told them it was none of their fucking business what he was doing. He grinned now, wondering what the Lieutenants were telling the Court. Bit tricky, covering for him without admitting they had no idea why Spike had left his Territory for several weeks. Their problem, not his.

With Glory gone and the word spread that Spike had been the one to defeat her, the Court minions had been falling all over themselves sucking up to Spike, wanting the reflected status of being close to him. He doubted any of them would risk final death or expulsion from the Court by questioning his absence.

They’d put off this trip several times because Xander had gotten involved in things that he wanted to see through and Spike had begun to fear that Xander would never find a time when he didn’t feel like he would be shirking his responsibilities to leave town. First his job, then the plans for the new high school. And Spike had understood - especially about the high school, he just hadn’t seen the necessity of fixing the school now. While he’d agreed absolutely that no fucking way was Dawn going to attend classes on top of the Hellmouth, but it wasn’t like she would be in high school for another year. Plenty of time before then to burn down the new building, he’d argued unsuccessfully.

Finally, with Buffy re-enrolled in fall classes, that damn memorial built, and Red safely back in England, Xander had put in for vacation time and here they were. It was a good thing that Xander hadn’t left any room for doubt that he was looking forward to becoming Spike’s Consort. They’d talked about it several times but having the Gem of Amara had eliminated Xander’s worry that becoming Spike’s Consort would endanger Spike. The ceremony and the transfer of some of his power to Xander wouldn’t matter now that he was invulnerable. Anyone trying to take advantage of the fact to take Spike down was in for one hell of a surprise. 

He’d removed the Ring for the Consort ritual, not wanting to risk that the Ring’s magic would somehow screw up the ritual, but the weakness that had followed the ritual, the loss of strength and stamina that was expected and was one of the reason so few vampires ever took a consort - or survived the weeks after the ritual - had disappeared in a matter of days. He wasn’t quite back to full strength yet, but he was close. By the time they got home, he didn’t expect to have any problems when the word he’d taken a Consort inevitably spread.

“Hey,” Xander’s voice pulled him from his thoughts and he looked into the warm brown eyes smiling at him from so close he could feel Xander’s breath feathering against his face. Xander leaned closer and kissed him with slow, lingering passion. “Did I tell you?” he said, his smile turning impish. “I think we should come back here for our 100th anniversary.

Spike’s own lips turned up in a puckish grin. “Sounds like a plan, luv. Does that mean I get to pick the place we spend our 200th?”

“Seems fair,” Xander said judiciously.

Spike laughed and kissed him. Eternity with this man, his Consort, seemed just about enough time.

End


End file.
